Breathless
by Aurorarose
Summary: My first fanfic--and the most generic plot of all--about Buffy and Xander and their relationship in the show. Takes place after the episode Homecoming
1. Chapter One

Breathless ****

Breathless

By: Aurorarose13

Chapter 1

The dry snake hiss of leaves being crushed underfoot instantly caught the slayer's attention. Her eyes narrowed and her muscles tensed as she surveyed the area with suspicion. The blonde crouched down into her fighting stance, preparing to leap at whatever it was that was destroying the peaceful slumber of the cemetery. _Probably another one of its former residents_ she thought sardonically. 

Another crunch.

This time the harsh sound came from the south, and this time it was definitely closer. The slayer silently stalked toward a wall of high hedges that obscured her view like thick velvet curtain. Stake in hand, ready to strike, the blonde parted some of the close-knit branches, poking herself numerous times in the process. The tiny opening she produced was narrow enough for her to see that no one hid behind there; however, the slayer still sensed someone's presence, and she noted that it was nearby. She could feel it in the gentle breezes that drifted through the night air, rustling the grass and stirring about the autumn leaves. 

Suddenly, she felt an intense urge rush through her body. _Turn around and check your back_. As the slayer whirled around, she realized she hadn't moved nearly fast enough. About halfway there, without warning, she was tackled, taking the hit dead-on and feeling the full force of the blow as she crashed to the ground, gasping for air. Her face screwed up in pain when she landed hard on her right ankle, bending it further than it wanted to be bent. She felt the furious fire inch up her leg, and she winced as it grew stronger, throbbing angrily. 

Try as she might, the slayer couldn't get back up: partly because of her assailant's crushing weight, and partly because she feared her ankle would give out if she attempted to stand up. Still, she wriggled fiercely under whatever had her, hoping that she might shake it off.

A throaty laugh was issued from the thing atop her as it tilted her head to the side, exposing all of her long neck. Out of the corners of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of the monstrous visage of a grinning vampire glaring hungrily at her pulsing carotid artery, bloodstained fangs extended and reaching eagerly for a taste of her blood. 

With the sight of those faintly reddened teeth, the slayer was unexpectedly struck with a strange feeling, a weird tingling in the back of her mind that was making her quake inside; also known as fear. Being the slayer, the blonde girl had hardly been subjected to fear; there was never any time for it in her profession. Sure, there'd been a few moments when she'd felt the pang, the inexplicable sensation that froze her muscles and made her blood run cold, but they passed as quickly as they came. Now, lying there under the fat vampire, unable to move her legs and without the aid of her trusty stake, the slayer experienced this "fear" again, yet also for the first time.

With her head angled to the side, she could plainly see that her stake—her salvation—was just inches from her fingertips, lying on a bed of soft grass on a fresh grave. The blonde stretched and stretched until her arm could stretch no further, hoping to get a hold of the tip, yet knowing it was agonizingly out of reach and wasn't getting any closer. 

The vampire's weight was pressing so hard on her chest that she could only succeed in breathing in short, erratic gasps, and she could almost hear her ribcage shattering into a million pieces under her skin.

Ever so slowly, it lowered its head to its captive's neck, taking in the sweet smell of its victim through its filthy nostrils, savoring the aroma of fear about her. Just before its fangs could pierce her flesh, it heard something behind it: the muffled rustle of feet on grass. "Hey, Bloodboy!" The vampire jerked its head around only to be greeted by the sight of a foot to its jaw. It rolled off of the slayer, caressing its dented jaw line and mumbling under its reeking breath.

"Buffy!" her savior shouted. "Get up!"

Her ears rang quite badly so she didn't recognize the voice; however, she discerned the message easily enough, and she followed the instructions anyway. As quickly as she could manage, Buffy grabbed her stake and clambered to her feet, less graceful than she expected, but getting up all the same. Bolts of electricity shot up her leg and the pain spread like wildfire, but she kept her balance long enough to dust the vamp and thank the person who saved her. "Anytime Buff." Buff? Only her friends called her that. Her ears were still ringing and the voice wasn't crystal clear, yet Buffy instantly knew it belonged to her pal Xander. 

While Buffy walked over to him, her ankle bent under her own weight, and before she knew it, she stumbled and fell. Right before she could collide with the ground, Xander's arms encircled her, helping her back to her feet. _Why is Xander the one always rescuing me?_ Buffy asked silently.

"That was close. What happened?" inquired a very anxious Xander. 

Buffy began to recount the events that had transpired. She started with how she had heard the crunching leaves and then how she was jumped from behind and finally how her only means to save herself, her stake, dangled just out of her reach—so close, yet so far away. "And that's when you came into the picture. Did I forget to say thanks?"

"No, don't worry. I think that was the first thing you said other than, and I quote, 'Blood-sucking creep.'"

Buffy flashed him one of her award winning smiles and proceeded to say, "I think that's more than enough slaying for tonight. I should probably get home and do something about this ankle." When she finished, she realized Xander remained holding her up, arms wrapped protectively about her.

"For once, Buff, you realized it's the right time to quit." She nodded and, at the same time, sent out a silent order for him to let go of her, with which he complied, though he was a bit hesitant at first. When she tried to walk, she almost fell again, but of course, as expected, Xander caught her. "Walk much?" he joked. Buffy frowned and lightly elbowed him in the stomach. "Let me help you home."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm perfectly capable of getting there myself. After all, if I can handle demons and vampires, then I can surely get myself home."

"Yeah, if you crawl the whole way there."

"Just watch me!" she said, her stubborn streak shining brilliantly. Xander released Buffy once more, only to watch her trip and tumble to the ground.

"You know, at this rate, we'll be home by tomorrow." She scowled deeply at him, knowing perfectly well that he was right, and that in her condition there was no way she could get home by herself. He brought her back to her feet and casually slipped an arm around her waist, giving her support.

"Fine," she whispered angrily, mostly at herself because of her weakness, but she hopped along with him anyway with her left arm about his neck, favoring her right leg.

During their walk to the Summers' house, the two conversed freely about almost everything; everything that is except Angel and Cordelia. They somehow didn't make it into Buffy and Xander's talks about past adventures and the ones to come. 

"So," Buffy began, "I heard that Scott's found a new girl, yeah?"

Abruptly, the scene became awkward, and Xander cleared his throat before he replied. "Ah, yeah. I sorta heard that, uh, he and, uh-um, Faith went out on a few dates. But that's just rumor, ya know, I mean, I don't know for sure." He knew how much Scott meant to Buffy. He was her proof that she was moving on with her life post Angel.

"Faith, huh?" she mumbled thoughtfully. Buffy stopped her pathetic hobbling, looked into Xander's eyes and noted how dark and mysterious they were. He stared right back, and they made a silent connection through which he conveyed the message: "I'm sorry." Buffy managed to tear her eyes away from his to glance down the street at her house nestled just off of the curb. 

Home. That was where she yearned to be right then. Home, with her injured leg on propped up on a pillow, on her bed, with a glass of O.J., and the TV on.

Somehow Xander sensed Buffy's urgent longing for her house, so he started walking again, pulling his impaired companion lightly along. They continued in silence until they reached the front door of the house, then they turned to face each other once more, Buffy leaning against the wall for support. There was an air of tension surrounding the couple, and neither one was exactly sure of what to say to the other, so they just stood there, each one quietly observing the other.

"No more climbing through any windows for the rest of the week, I guess," Buffy offered.

"Nope, guess not."

They stood silent for a few moments longer and then Buffy asked, "Wanna come in for a bit? I'm sure my mom won't mind any. I don't think she's home."

Xander smiled brilliantly, and Buffy couldn't help but notice how bright his eyes were then. He looked about nervously and started massaging his hands. "Sorry, Buff, but I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check. It's awfully late, and you need time to take care of that ankle. Besides, we've got school tomorrow. And that big Trig test! _Eek, I guess I forgot that too!_ Remember school, the place where you go, well, are supposed to go, every weekday?"

She laughed briefly. "Since when have you ever cared about school and Trig tests, Mr. Harris?"

"Well, since never. But my mom does, and I know for a fact that yours does too, especially this year."

Buffy shrugged off his comments and instead smiled at him. She looked into his eyes again, and as she did, Xander studied her flawless face. Boy, she was beautiful. Even after staking vampires and rolling around in a cemetery, the land of the dead, she still smelled and looked gorgeous. Buffy Summers was the only girl he knew that could do that. Not even Cordy could hold a candle to her in that department.

Xander became immersed in thoughts. He thought about how he used to believe that Buffy's leaving Sunnydale had been both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because it had allowed Xander to give up his unattainable dream of being with Buffy to be with his actual girlfriend, Cordelia, which delighted her to no end. Yet, it was also a curse because he loved her, and everyday he'd wake up wishing she were in town so he could at least see her wonderful face and inhale her wonderful scent. And then, when she had returned, he was shocked, a little angry that she left in the first place, and totally and completely glad, of course. But for some reason he hadn't felt the old attraction; that certain yearning, which Xander swore had taken years off of his life, when he was near enough to Buffy to feel the heat radiating off of her body. He had thought maybe, just maybe, he had finally fallen out of love with her and moved on with his life. 

But alas, as he gazed into her strikingly expressive eyes, he knew that wasn't the case. He was still as much in love with Buffy Anne Summers as he was before she'd left town, possibly even more so.

"Come on, Xander, you can't fool me. What's the real reason you won't come inside?"

Well, he certainly couldn't fool her, though he had desperately wished he could. Xander didn't want to tell her his actual reason for not joining her. What would she say if he told her that he really _did _want to come in, but didn't dare for fear he would fall totally, head over heels in love with her all over again if he spent anymore time next to her (though he knew in his heart that he already had)? _She'd probably laugh in my face_ he thought grimly.

"Really, Buffster, that's the real reason. You need time to heal that ankle, and you really don't want me hangin' around, drivin' you nuts. Admit it."

She let out a heavy sigh, then replied, "Fine, fine. You don't have to tell me the truth if you don't want to, but if I guess it right, will you tell me so?"

He decided that she might make up a sufficient excuse for him to avoid staying with her. He'd just wait for one that sounded good and say, "That's it!" and he'd be out of there in no time, problem solved.

"You always have to know everything, don't you? All right, go ahead."

"Okay, is it because you're planning a really awesome surprise party for me?" Xander shook his head no. Buffy pondered another moment to then ask, "You've won the lottery, and you're in a big hurry to get your first check?" Another no. "You're off to save the world from the evilest beast there is?"

Now he had an idea. He paused for dramatics. "Close." 

"Hey, I thought that sorta thing was my job!" Xander smirked at her. "Oh well, at least I'm close. Is this beast in Sunnydale?" He nodded yes. "Great! Now I'm really getting somewhere. Is this thing male?" A no. "Female then, huh?" A yes. Suddenly her voice took on a softer, sadder tone. "Are you going over to Cordelia's?"

"You guessed it. You're better at this than I thought."

__

I wish I wasn't Buffy mused unhappily.

"So, now that you know, you don't mind if I hit the trail, so to speak?"

"Nah, no," she replied pensively, "don't keep the girl—"

"Beast."

"—the beast waiting any longer than she already has." Buffy tried to hide the air of disappointment in her voice from Xander, barely hiding it from herself. She began to wonder if he would have ever turned down this offer before she'd run away? Maybe she'd read all the signals wrong; maybe he didn't have feelings for her after all.

"Perhaps some other time then?" he offered.

"Sure, Xander, sure." He opened the front door for her and helped the slayer up the flight of stairs to her bed. Once in her room, Xander removed his arm from around her waist, and in turn, she removed hers from around his shoulder. 

"Need anything before I go: O.J., the remote, perhaps a pillow under that foot?"

"Nope," she stated with a warm smile (he was so sweet, well, sometimes), "my mom can take care of it. You're free to go; I release you from bondage. I know how anxious you are to see Cordy." 

"Yeah, anxious like I am for that Trig test tomorrow."

Despite the fact that she laughed at his joke about his girlfriend, Buffy appeared a little putout by everything. So before he left, Xander gave her a brief but heartfelt hug and promised he'd see her tomorrow "bright and early."

"Take good care of yourself."

"Will do, Captain Xander."

He gave her a comforting smile as he said his final goodbye and closed her bedroom door behind him, the soft click of the jamb somehow filling the room. 

Buffy laid there for a moment, wondering how he'd known exactly what she wanted: her bed, orange juice, TV and a fluffy pillow under her sprained ankle. She stared out the window thinking, _Boy, I hope Cordelia knows how lucky she is. _Almost unconsciously, Buffy touched her left side, which was still warm from pressing up against Xander.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2 ****

Chapter 2

Outside the Summers' residence, Xander pressed his back up against the front door, his mind reeling backwards and crashing into a wall of insanity. What had just happened? Was he falling for her again? Yes, he was, he knew it. Or rather were they old feelings coming back in a new way? Maybe, could be, it's possible. He felt the need to protect her, to keep her from all harm, but he'd always felt that and so did all of Buffy's other friends. Was that it; was he just her friend now? Yeah right, her friend who just might be in love with her; that is to say, he wasn't really sure about his emotions at the moment. So confused. He needed time to analyze the situation properly.

Xander started for home, and when he'd reached the end of the lawn the sudden need to look back at the house struck him. When he spiraled around, he discovered Buffy looking through the pane of glass, peering down at him with an immense grin plastered on her face. He returned the warm gesture and waved, wondering what the reason behind the look was. 

Reluctantly shifting his gaze from Buffy back to the road, Xander continued the trek toward his house when he realized he had told Buffy he was going to Cordy's and not home. He switched directions, purposefully glancing down at his watch for effect, then threw on a surprised countenance as though he were actually in some big rush and started to jog urgently. Though she remained tucked away safely in her room, Xander could still feel her penetrating gaze dig deep into him and read his thoughts. _Now she's probably confused as I am! _he remarked inwardly. Once he felt he was a safe enough distance from Buffy's house, Xander slowed to a walk, and instead of going home or to Cordy's, he walked over to Willow's place.

During the walk there, Xander's thoughts shifted from his recent rendezvous with Buffy to the kiss he and Willow had shared mere days ago. He remembered how strange and uncomfortable it had felt after he kissed his long-time best bud. At first, the kiss was soft and sweet, like any kiss should be. But then all of a sudden it twisted into something horribly awkward and a definitely frightening when Xander realized what he was actually doing. 

He'd never harbored any feelings for Willow before other than the normal buddy-buddy kind. _So why'd I do it then? _he questioned himself. Then he recalled the unfortunate truth. When he saw her in that dazzling dress, she instantly reminded him of his beloved Buffy, and for however briefly the moment had lasted, Willow had actually been the slayer of his dreams. All of his feelings for Buffy had flooded back into him full force, and he could no longer resist the insistent urge to kiss the woman he had thought was his true love.

It wasn't until Xander had reached the porch steps of the Rosenberg household that he made a revelation. He'd never fallen out of love with Buffy; he'd just needed a reminder, and unfortunately for Willow, she'd been it.

Xander knew what he had to do. He had to talk with Willow concerning the kiss. He needed to tell her what had really happened and why he'd kissed her in the first place, otherwise who knew what would happen? Xander hated to think how their fleeting intimate moment would affect Willow's relationship with her boyfriend Oz. Despite the fact that he didn't personally love the guy/werewolf, Xander knew that Oz was a good person and that he genuinely cared about his best friend. Besides, Willow seemed to adore him to no end. He made her happy, and that fact was enough for Xander. He didn't want to ruin what the two had going for them.

Nervously, Xander approached the front door of the comfortably sized house and, with trembling fingers, pressed the buzzer. The portal opened to reveal a middle-aged woman who resembled her daughter in most aspects, standing in the brightly lit hallway, rays of unnatural light streaming through her hair and creating a peculiar ambiance about her figure. She smiled cheerfully at him then proceeded to greet him. "Evening, Xander, how are you?" Moving right into her next question before even receiving an answer, she asked, "Are you here to see Willow?"

"Greetings, Mrs. Rosenberg. To answer your questions: I'm peachy keen, and, yes, I am here to see your daughter. She here?" he inquired, glancing into the living room.

The pretty woman nodded in the direction of the stairs and started, "Yes, she is, up in her room, probably playing on that crazy glowing box she calls 'The Gateway to the Whole World.'"

"I can only assume you're talking about her computer."

She grinned, raised her eyebrows, and nodded her head. "I don't get what her attachment is to that thing, but why should I? Ah, well. You can go right on up, I'm sure she'll be glad to see you, she always is."

"I hope so. Thanks." Xander noticed it was nearing 9:30, so he decided he'd better make it quick. _The faster I get this out into the open and over with, the greater the chance she won't be quite so hurt… I hope._ The Scooby member knew it was probably the wrong way to attack this thing, but he couldn't come up with any better ideas at the moment, and to him the theory sounded relatively logical. 

He hesitantly placed his foot on the first stair, and from there started to ascend them tediously, step by tortuous step. He dreaded telling his best friend all of this. Most likely it was going to humiliate her, making her feel insignificant. All that fear made the mere flight of stairs seem like a towering mountain, each icy step harder than the last as the air became as thin, dry as paper and unsuitable for any life form to breath. Once he'd finally reached the top, Xander was left out of breath, sweating bullets all over his freshly washed clothes and feeling as if he'd accomplished some great feat by climbing a couple of stairs. 

He trudged down the hallway, his feet lead weights dragging him along to the entrance to her room. Upon arriving he rapped once on the wooden door then opened it a crack. "All clear?"

"Come on in," sounded a merry voice from inside.

Xander entered the room to find his best friend at her computer, as her mom initially had presumed, composing an e-mail. "Hold on a second, Xander," she ordered in her familiar gentle manner "Let me finish this. I promised one of my students I'd e-mail him his assignment." Her slender fingers moved expeditiously over the keys, clicking wildly and resonating in the light atmosphere the room possessed at the moment. Within moments she had completed the electronic letter and sent it out. 

Willow spun around in her swivel chair to stare her best friend straight in the eyes. A dingy blue halo from the computer background illuminated her face, creating a melancholy look. Xander feared it was foreshadowing of what she would experience in the next few intense minutes that were to transpire. "What's up, Xand? You know you can tell me anything."

__

Remember, exchange pleasantries, then tell her. Make it quick so she gets enough time to deal. "Hey, how are you?" he asked, not really caring if he got an answer, which he didn't. "I have something to tell you, Will," he started apprehensively, twiddling his thumbs and avoiding eye contact with her. His palms sweated profusely and he repeatedly wiped them on his jeans then resumed twiddling his thumbs.

"I guessed as much, you don't normally ever come over here this late on a school night, unless it's pretty important."

"You know me too well."

"You have a problem with that?"

"'Course not, but it kinda ruins all my surprises."

"Oh goody! You've got a surprise for me?" she inquired enthusiastically.

__

Yeah, but not one you're gonna like thought Xander grimly. "Um, I need to tell you something you might not want to hear, but, as my best friend, it's your right to know, I mean, there's nothing I can't tell you. You've always been honest with me, right? So now it's my turn to be honest with you. Even if it's not a happy thing, it's important." The smile faded from Willow's once brightly shining face with each passing word Xander spoke.

"What does this regard, Xander?" interjected Willow.

"I've been thinking about the kiss we shared before Homecoming, and there's something I've discovered about it that I think you should know." He paused for a second and inhaled deeply, trying to prep himself for the moment he saw lurking in the shadows of the horizon. Willow had always been so fragile. Despite what she had once said about him being the fragile one, he knew that she was very sensitive. It wasn't his intent to hurt her—he loved her fiercely—but not like he did Buffy. Xander couldn't help these feelings. He had never chosen to love Buffy; his cursed heart had. No, he was stuck in love with a woman who was in love with a vampire. Oh why did he fall for a slayer when he could have had one of the most charming and beautiful women in the world? 

He continued stuttering, "W…when I kissed you Willow, well, I thought you were…" His trembling voice trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to say it, for already he could see she was on the verge of tears. Xander had never felt lower in all of his short life. When he'd locked lips with Willow he had opened an old wound, one that had just recently started to heal in her with the help of her newfound love with Oz. Despite what everyone else postulated, Xander knew his best friend had loved him—he knew—but now she was with Oz. She'd moved on; she was over him. Afterwards, when the kiss was broken, he'd silently prayed he hadn't rekindled the old passions she'd had for him.

"Buffy," she whispered in a barely audible voice, much more pain-filled and heart-wrenching than he had ever heard before. 

"What?" he asked confusedly. Xander had completely forgotten where he was and with whom he was.

"You thought I was Buffy, didn't you?" She didn't appear angry at all. Instead Willow seemed overwhelmed by all that she was taking in. The crushed look in her normally vibrant eyes was more than enough to make Xander's blood freeze in his veins. _What have I done to her?_

Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over at anytime. "You know something, Xander? I knew that kiss was never meant for my lips. You weren't really kissing me… I knew. I felt it the moment our lips touched. There was so much passion in it, so much love conveyed through it, that I recognized instantly that I was never meant to experience it. It was reserved for another one of my friends.

"God, Xander, how I wanted you to love me the way you love Buffy, wanted you to want me the way you want her, but I always knew deep inside that you'd never feel that way about me. And as long as we're being honest here, I also have something to confess. I loved you, Xander, loved you, as in the past tense. But when I found Oz, I knew I was over you. I was so happy that I'd found someone who could love me the way I so desperately yearned to be loved. I still am, and I'm thankful everyday of my life." Willow had a far-off look in her eyes as she dreamt of her ever faithful, ever-loving werewolf. Her fleeting smile alleviated some of his inner turmoil—not much, but some of it—while tears gleamed like crystals on her cheeks. 

Her attention shifted back to the present situation and she continued, "But when you kissed me, Xander that stirred up those old emotions again, and they rushed back, threatening to take away all I've built with Oz! And I'm scared, Xander. Sometimes I don't know what I feel anymore. How can I when I don't even know what's real and what's just an illusion? Are you and I the illusion, and are Oz and I are the real thing, or is it the other way around? I don't know anymore. All I know is I'm scared to death."

__

Sounds a bit like me he mused. "You're not angry with me?" he asked surprised.

"Of course I'm angry, Xander. Furious! More with myself than you. I should have stopped that kiss before it started; I should have prevented it. The way I see it, it's more my fault than yours."

"Willow—" he interjected softly.

She silenced him with a graceful wave of her thin hand. "Let me finish.

"Xander, I love you, but in a different way now. I've just realized that in the last couple of days. I think it was a subconscious thing, but I've always known maybe. (God, none of this makes sense!) All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy, and if Buffy's what it takes to make you happy, bless you both. I'm happy—it may not be very apparent at this moment, but I am. I've got Oz, and something inside of me's telling me that I always will. And of course, I'll always have you as my best friend; I have no doubt in that fact. And you know something else I've learned? That's the way it's got to be. We've always got to be the best of friends because, as we've both discovered recently, we just weren't made to fall in love with each other."

Xander noticed that Willow had now stopped crying and had a reassuringly smile on her face. He wasn't exactly sure if it was meant for him or herself, maybe it was for the both of them, all he knew was that he was glad he'd told her what was on his mind. Though he felt terrible about hurting her so deeply, he was relieved to hear that she was over him and that she forgave him for what he'd done to her. Xander was thankful that she'd gone so easy on him though he'd known before he'd even arrived that she would try to free him of the emotional burden that weighed him down, Willow was always giving like that. 

What made Xander feel even better was the fact that she was staying with Oz, the man, that as Xander had observed, was in love with her from the very moment he'd laid eyes on her. They connected like pieces in a puzzle, the way Xander had always hoped he and Buffy would connect.

"I'm sorry," he pronounced meaningfully. "Never you worry that pretty face of yours, Willow, we will ALWAYS be the best of friends, I'll see to that."

"I know."

"I'm glad. I love you, Willow."

She grinned and said, "Not to be confused with 'I LOVE you.'"

"Exactly," he confirmed with a nod.

They exchanged hugs and apologies, and then Xander got up and stated, "Fantastic! It's almost 10:30. I've got to get back home. Besides, you probably want to go to bed anyway seeing as we've got that damned Trig test tomorrow and I know you're one of those people who gets to bed early and dreams about sine and tangent and all that fun stuff."

"Hey, are you mocking me?" He answered with a shrug and a grin.

"One day your life will depend on one of those functions you scoff at and we'll just see who's laughing then, Mr. Harris," she giggled and Xander just wanted to reach out and hug her for the sound of her laughter relaxed him greatly internally. After the dark air had settled upon the room and eliminated all happiness, he'd felt glum and prone to fits of screaming, though he'd kept them in check.

"I've got to go," he sighed as he walked over to her bedroom door.

"I know."

"I'll see you tomorrow in Trig class first period. I tell you what, what a way to start the day."

"Mmm," she agreed. "I'll be there."

"Good night."

"Sleep tight."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," he whispered quietly as he exited the room and closed the door. Willow waved goodbye to him and then went back to shutting down her computer.

Xander turned away from her door and marched to the top of the stairs, his feet no longer heavy with guilt. He glanced down over the banister; the stairs didn't seem like Everest anymore, they were just stairs. He happily jumped down them, taking two at a time. "Bye Mrs. R!" Xander cried as he quickly opened then closed the front door.

The night air was cool and refreshing after the tense atmosphere in Willow's room. It actually was quite ironic because the Rosenberg household was the one place Xander felt completely at home in. After all, his dad was never home, and usually, neither was his mother. Even his own house usually seemed isolated and foreboding, but never, ever, was Willow's place like that. It was always so merry and there was always someone there to welcome him in.

A crack.

Xander spun around. Nothing. Nothing but darkness. _Relax Xander, old buddy, old pal. Nobody there. You're still a little on edge from being in that bind inside._ However, he couldn't convince himself of that entirely, so he walked the street cautiously and made his way home. A light breeze rustled through the trees and sent a shower of red and brown leaves upon him.

A crunch.

Xander was sure he hadn't stepped on any dry leaves. Instinct told him to be wary, so he reached into his pocket and began to finger the cross inside it. Again he whirled around, and this time he saw someone. Actually, it was just a silhouette, but he recognized who it was at once.

"Long time no see," the shadow uttered evilly, his undertone was icy. Xander could sense the man was smiling, even through the curtain of shadows that encompassed him. "Come with me Xander, I've got something to show you."

"Thanks, but I'll think I'll pass. Maybe some other time."

"Such a gentleman, but then, you always have been Xander. No, I don't think you'll wanna miss what I have in store for you," the figure enticed as he grabbed Xander, throwing him harshly to the ground, and pulling him along by his shirt collar. After toying with him a little, the shadow brought his gargantuan hand down on Xander's head, effectively knocking him unconscious. The figure cackled darkly into the night sky, his laugh resonating off the houses then disappearing like a ghost into the blackness.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3 ****

Chapter 3

Buffy arrived in school the next day on pair of crutches, her ankle taped up efficiently. _Giles isn't going to be pleased when he sees this _she sighed wearily. At least Xander, Cordy, Willow and Oz could hopefully manage the slaying for a while until she built up her strength in her ankle again; Giles would probably have a hand in it, too.

Huh, Xander and Cordelia…

The simple thought of the two together had never really bothered her before. In fact, she'd always found their whole relationship sort of funny, but for some unknown reason it bothered the hell out of her now. Last night, while lying in her room alone, wishing Xander had stayed to keep her company a little while longer, she'd even been a little jealous of Cordy.

Jealous? Of Cordelia?

What was wrong with her? _Maybe I should consider adding head trauma to my list of injuries!_ Xander was her friend, and so was Cordelia; at least, she believed that's what Cordelia was. Buffy had never harbored any feelings for Xander before. It hadn't been Xander she'd been crying about night after night; his face wasn't the one that haunted her dreams; and he most certainly wasn't the guy that was on her mind all of the time. That was Angel. It always had been, huh, probably always would be, right?

She quickly hopped off of her train of thought when she noticed the doors of the library looming in front of her. Buffy placed a steady hand on the door and pushed it gently inward. The sights and smells of old, musty books and the silence that accompanies most libraries instantly greeted her. "Giles?" Buffy called out, her voice reverberating off of the surrounding mountains of novels. Mere silence answered. "Giles?" More silence.

She remained completely motionless, and her body went rigid so that she could hear any sounds made by the old British watcher, i.e., the shuffle of feet on the floor or the mumbling of a voice. Buffy remained standing that way until the jarring sound of the homeroom bell shook her from her trance.

Turning to the doors, she was about to leave when she heard the familiar scraping of worn leather shoes on the ground—the trademark sound of her favorite librarian. Giles emerged from his office into the main reading area, brushing back his gray hair from his face and smoothing down his tweed jacket with the same hand.

Giles was only vaguely aware of Buffy's presence within the room, his nose buried in a book (nothing new). He was so immersed in his fascinating tome he hadn't even heard her call his name.

"Earth to Giles!"

"Yes, what, huh?" asked a confused Rupert Giles in his quaint British accent. He managed to tear his eyes away from the current page he was reading long enough to look around for the source of the beckoning voice.

Standing right in front of him, with a cross look on her face, was the vampire slayer on crutches. He had a stunned countenance on as he queried, "My word, what happened to you?"

Buffy gave him a brief synopsis of the previous night's occurrences, then said, "So, it looks like the slayerettes are going to have their hands full with vamps cause there's no way I can fight in this shape."

"Why, Buffy, I do believe that's one of the more intelligent things I've heard you say. Did you think of that on you're own? What caused this, uh, what I mean to say is, why did you make such a sensible decision?"

"Are you implying that I never make a sensible decision?" Giles suddenly became a little embarrassed—she loved putting him on the spot like that.

"Why, uh, no, of course not. It's just that, some of your past choices were, um, well…less than sagacious."

"Sagacious, uh huh. Such as…" she urged. Whenever he was backed into a corner like he was at that moment, he always managed to amuse her by saying something else that would only give her more of a reason to attack him and would only result in more embarrassment.

"Well, um, there was that time you went hunting for vampires in the cemetery while you had that virus, the that had affected nearly everyone in the whole school. Remember that? You got there, and Angelus then challenged you, knowing very well that you were not fighting your best. All of us knew it, and we even warned you, yet you went ahead and did it anyway. Does that time ring a bell?"

"Well I guess—" she started, but was abruptly cut off. The librarian was on roll now, and she could see the difference in this aggressive behavior as opposed to the fatherly manner of a few minutes ago.

"And then you ended up in the hospital, but that hardly mattered. You went right ahead and fought that invisible monster, uh, der Kinderstod, with an incredibly high fever and weakened immune system—"

It was her turn to interject, "Hey, wait a minute! I beat that thing with the weird eye thingies."

"Oh, excellent description, Buffy."

"Well, I saved those kids and who knows how may others. Even with the fever and the weakened immune system!"

"I'm not disagreeing with you about that. All I'm saying is that we could have 'attacked' that monster from another angle, a safer one."

Buffy sighed. Giles was going to start lecturing soon, so she decided it was time to leave. "Giles, I'd love to stay and hear you ramble on and on about how I should be more cautious, but I've got to get to class. I have a delightful Trig test to take. If I'm late, I'll never get one of those—how'd Snyder put it—'glowing recommendations.' Lecture me later. I'm gonna hit the trail, so to speak." She remembered Xander saying the exact same line to her, and she touched her left side unconsciously in remembrance, just as she had last night.

Giles sighed and bid the slayer good day in his proper English manner.

Buffy left the library and headed to the first period. _Ugh, Trig class_. They had been told they were to be treated to a wonderful test that day—a delightful romp through the magical world of trigonometry—the exact same one for which Buffy hadn't studied.

She reached the room right before the bell rang again, slipping in and quickly hopping into her seat in one fluid movement.

As the class waited tensely for the test to be passed out, Buffy surveyed the room with her keen eyes. _There's Will, Cordy, Scott, but where's that Xander?_ She glanced at the empty seat that Alexander Harris normally occupied.

Buffy was suddenly thrown back into the previous night's events, particularly the moment in which Xander had first caught her as she tried to walk to him. He'd been at least eight whole feet from her when she'd tripped, but somehow he'd managed to close that gap within a few microseconds and lift her to safety with his sturdy arms. Buffy recalled the warm, secure feeling she'd experienced as he encompassed her thin person and held her close as if attempting to shield her from harm's way. It was more like an embrace than anything else, with his hands hooked together behind her back, exhibiting no signs of letting her go.

From out of nowhere, a flurry of white test papers landed with a whispered rustle on her desk and forced her from continuing along that line of thought known as Xander Harris. 

The slayer picked up her pencil and began to chew nervously on the eraser, mostly because of the way she was now thinking of her Xander, not because of the impossible test she already knew she would fail. That had been practically the eighth time since Xander had left her house the prior evening that her thoughts had reverted back to that exact moment in yesterday's drama, and the blonde was starting to ponder what was so special about it that her mind wouldn't let her forget it. It was beginning to worry her.

Buffy sighed, momentarily wondering why Xander wasn't in school anyway. He had promised he would be there to arrange another date for that rain check he'd taken. She stopped nibbling on her pencil so she could start the test before her.

  1. What is the length of side A if Ð O is 45° and the hypotenuse is 58 cm? SHOW YOUR WORK!

Yawn. This was going to be a very long day.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter 4 ****

Chapter 4

Cold. That was the first thing Xander felt when he awoke, other than the blinding, immeasurable, stinging pain. But even that blazing fire inside couldn't compare to the freezing room temperature. And the fact that he was only wearing a T-shirt and a pair of denim jeans didn't help warm him any better than if he'd only worn his boxers. What really plagued him was the insistent question in the back of his skull: Where exactly is here? Xander couldn't even open his eyes to deduce where he was because anytime he attempted to, an intense throbbing sensation rippled in waves behind his eyelids, which eventually became so painful he'd tightly shut them once again without ever finding out anything more. 

What's more, Xander wasn't even sure he wanted to see what was around him. The blustery air had the nauseating smell of malodorous meat combined with the putrid reek of garbage. The scurry of rats rebounded off of the walls with a deafening roar, drowning out any other sounds that could be clues as to where the room was. Occasionally, when that sound subsided—he wasn't exactly sure—but Xander imagined he detected the steady whir of a fan in the background.

When he endeavored to move, Xander discovered his arms and legs useless as they were bound together with rope. He also found out that the stabbing pains in his head weren't isolated after all. In fact, they flooded his body, piercing every part with thousands of little separate pinpricks. His muscles ached with each tiny movement, and his head pulsated with every thought. But that didn't stop Xander from immediately thinking of his Buffy and the rest of his beloved friends. Were they okay? Had they been captured too? Xander went numb with fear when he realized Buffy might've been kidnapped as well, leaving her in serious pain or worse. What if that were what the shadow wanted to show him: the slayer's cold, dead corpse. God no! He had to get free; he had to find Buffy. Xander fought down the agony as he struggled frantically with his restraints, but to no avail. The rope held strong, giving him very little leeway with which to work; however, the persistent boy refused to give up. If his friends were indeed in danger, he was going to save them.

After writhing in anger on the floor for what seemed like hours, Xander whimpered softly in defeat. He couldn't go on fighting any longer; he was physically exhausted. All attempts to escape had been futile, and it seemed that there was no way out. He pleaded silently to God and asked that He keep his friends safe, especially Buffy.

"Morning, sunshine," a voice taunted. It was difficult for Xander to tell for sure, because of the echoing effects that the walls possessed, but he suspected the owner of the eerie voice to be right in front of him.

"Bastard," Xander spat as nastily as he could manage.

"Now, is that anyway to speak to your most gracious host, hmm?" The man walked closer to the teenage boy that lay bound before him. He gradually stopped when he was beside Xander's head, and then he stooped down next to the boy's ear. "So," the voice continued, "how have you been? I, myself, wasn't feeling quite up to par last weekend, but now I'm feeling pretty damn great!

"You know why I wasn't nearly as enthralled with life last weekend as I am at this moment?" Xander could feel the shadow eyeing over his bruised and beaten body when he spoke, scrutinizing every injury, wondering where to inflict the next vicious one and planning the most painful way to do it.

"Because you were _dead_, in Hell, where you belong," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I tend to disagree with the latter; however, the former is true enough—I was in Hell. And you want to know something else, Xander? I rather liked it there. The unbelievable hurt, the unending torture. That made it all the more appealing to me. To see those thousands of trapped souls screaming for salvation, reaching up toward Heaven, clawing the air, knowing they'd never escape the horrors that encompassed them, really made me think. Hah, it made me think I never wanted to leave. Once I'd seen the wonders of Hell, I realized that I never wanted to go anywhere else, especially Heaven. Perpetual bliss, enlightenment, and total and complete happiness were never really my scene. I dig suffering, death, and pain… They're fun." Xander could sense the lunatic's madness in the air around him, and he felt a ghostly cold shiver chase the warmth down his spine and right out of him. He imagined the shadow's grin growing wider and wider with each new thought that eternal damnation conjured.

"Damn you, Angel, damn you!" Xander growled out of frustration.

"I prefer Angelus; an angel is a servant of God, an entity with which I have nothing in common, as you and your friends well know."

"That's for damn sure."

"Would you like to know why I brought you here?" Angelus frowned when Xander didn't answer. He'd rather hoped the boy would start an argument with him and give him reason to beat him further. "Aren't you the least bit interested?" No reply. Angelus' scowl deepened even more so. "Oh, I think you'll be more than interested to hear what I have planned…"

Xander shuddered inside, trying to ignore the icy smile he knew was displayed on Angelus' face. He bit his lower lip hard and braced himself for what he was about to hear. It was the only way.

@~~`~~~

Ring!

__

Thank God thought Buffy as she handed in her Trig test. She exhaled heavily. _Another one failed_.

While Buffy was gathering up her things, Willow approached her. "How do you think you did on this test, Buff? I actually feel as though I aced this one. I was up all night studying for it," the red head informed.

"How many points was it worth?"

"Fifty."

"Okay, let me think for a moment. If Ð O is 67° and side A is 103 cm, then… hold on. Carry the one. Remember, adjust for pi. In that case, if I did my math right, I got a big, fat zero!"

Willow smiled and escorted her now depressed blonde friend out of the room and through the hallways. Along the way, the two conversed about the usefulness of trigonometry in their everyday life, Willow arguing in its defense, and Buffy arguing against it. Then, halfway to Buffy's locker, they met up with Oz, and Willow seemed happier than ever to see him. Oz greeted Buffy and in one quick movement slipped Willow's hand into his own, leading her to her next class and away from the slayer. They all exchanged brief good-byes as they went their separate ways.

Once at her locker, Buffy opened it to switch textbooks. She was so busy hurrying to get to her Physics class that she almost failed to notice the envelope addressed to her. It caught her eye just before she slammed her locker door shut. Wondering what it was and whom it was from, she snatched it up and looked curiously at it, turning it over in her hands while exploring it gently with her fingertips. 

The envelope was a plain, everyday white with an elaborate blood-red wax seal on the back and strange bulges on the inside. Other than the seal, it was hardly elaborate in appearance. The front of it was adorned with naught but black, flowing script that read: To Buffy Summers, V.S. The slayer felt a large bump form in the back of her throat as she read the words, for they immediately made her uneasy. She'd been fighting evil for so long that, by now, she'd learned to trust her instincts. And right then they were telling her that she definitely didn't want to know what was inside the strikingly simple, yet taunting paper envelope. But, eventually, her curiosity got the better of her—as it often did—and against her better judgment she opened the thing with extreme caution, the back of her mind ululating desperately for her to close it.

The sticky seal hedged, then ripped from the paper, and Buffy tore into the envelope. What she revealed inside terrified her as she had imagined nothing could. The odd lump she'd felt within it turned out to be a Sunnydale High class ring—gold with a red ruby in the center—resembling the one Xander wore. She looked inside the band for initials and discovered: A.L.H.—Alexander LaVelle Harris. But that wasn't the only "present" in the paper container. Buffy also extracted two other pieces of folded parchment, one thick and grainy and white, the other one appearing yellowed and aged with time.

Not knowing which to investigate first, Buffy chose the yellowed scrap of paper and found it to be an exquisitely written, yet totally specious note that read:

_Hello Lover,_

Remember me, your dearly departed? Been a long time since we've last tangoed, hasn't it? I've missed you and the way we danced. While I was gone, I had time to look back on all that I've done, and I realized how much I love you. My dearest slayer, I need you like never before… I need your love like never before. I'd do anything to be with you again. Unfortunately, for us to reunite we have to free ourselves from all of the roadblocks and barriers that used to keep us from being together, and sadly, this means that your personal bodyguard, Xander stinking Harris, has to die. But worry not, lover. Where you two cannot be together, we can, this time forever, at long last. To show you that I am not heartless, I shall leave these gifts for you to remember him by.

Love always,

Angelus

Buffy shivered so violently that she could hardly conclude reading the obscene note. A few of her tears fell onto the paper, smearing the words. The whole scene became as surreal as her wildest nightmares, and Buffy soon found herself peering down at her own body from above, only to discover herself kneeling on the floor, hands clasped together in prayer._ Xander… Please let him be okay! Please keep him safe!_

Buffy slowly opened the other piece of paper and examined it, her quaking hands blurring the image on it. She discovered it to be sketch paper, which explained why it was so thick and heavy. "Nooo!" she wailed into the hallway. She grabbed her head with her hands, whipping wildly left and right in an attempt to expel the vicious image now scorched into her mind. 

As she grasped her head, Buffy released the paper to let it fall to the ground along with her textbook. It landed with the sound of a pitiful whimper on the linoleum floor—light from the overhead fluorescence streaming down onto it, making the black-and-white drawing glow supernaturally and come alive—its twisted picture writhing in a movement indicative of severe pain. It was one of Angelus' famous sketches. This time the subject was a bruised, battered Xander lying bound in the dirt, rope scattered everywhere, with his head turned unnaturally far to the side to display a twisted look of horror and pain frozen on his face, lifeless eyes gazing upwards to the heavens as if praying for redemption.

@~~`~~~

Back in the dank room, Angelus began to unfold his plan to a silent, distant teenager. "First, I'm going to torture you—not for any real reason, but just for the pure fun of it. And this torture will be like nothing you've ever known before: physical at first, but then reaching to a subconscious level. It'll be slow, too, unbelievably slow, and I'll be relentless—a drill in the human mind. Time will inch by, and there'll be no end to the suffering I'm going to cause you. When I'm through with you, Xander, you'll be nothing more than a quivering mass on this floor.

"And that's when I'll bring in the big guns; that's when I'll bring Buffy here. She'll charge in, ready to save you and slay me, and then she'll stop when she sees what I've done to you. Probably the first thing Buffy'll do is run to your side to see if you're okay, ignoring her own safety and unknowingly placing herself in the very hands of danger. And as she's kneeling there, cradling your practically lifeless body in her arms, that's when I'll finish you off. Only, thing is, I'll miss your heart, letting you live long enough to watch me mortally wound your precious little vampire slayer. You'll both go out watching each other die! Ingenious, isn't it?

"But I'm not done there. No, I'll find the rest of the slayerettes, and one by one I'll waste them. First, comes Cordelia, then that menace Oz (I'll make sure the beautiful Willow Rosenberg gets a front row seat to that show). Then, I'll kill her, too, but don't worry, Xander, I'll do it as quickly as possible, though definitely not painlessly." He paused to grin with delight at the image.

"And last, but most certainly not least, the watcher, the man who's been a thorn in my side for so very long. As far as I'm concerned, he's the reason I was killed in the first place. If that damned Englishman hadn't been so stubborn, Acthala would have been released, Hell would be on Earth, and I'd be having the time of my life right now! But I'm not, and I blame Giles. So he too shall die, just as slowly as Buffy will. Oh, wait till you see what I do to them! It'll leave you absolutely breathless."

"You're sick, deluded, crazy! You bastard! You, you, slimy little blood-sucker, I'll kill you!" Xander thrashed about wildly, fighting down the urge to vomit at the extreme pain his motions caused. Angelus kicked him once—hard in the chest—and Xander settled back into silence, his body heaving and his heart pounding painfully against his injured ribcage. But he fought back all the pain by worrying his lower lip with his teeth, and he opened his eyes just a crack so he could get a good look at the beast that was threatening to do all these terrible things to his friends.

"Tough words from a tough man," Angelus mocked.

"Damn you," Xander managed between fits of harsh coughing. Angelus' hollow, throaty laughter echoed throughout the stinking room. What he wouldn't give to kill the bastard!

"Oh, Xander, I'm going to enjoy torturing you. You've always been such a wimp. You won't last long, which can be a good thing, for then I won't have to wait much longer to get a chance at that gorgeous slayer. I can tell, Xander, that you're gonna love watching me kill her. I can see it in your eyes; you're excited about it. You've got the potential for being a ruthless vampire, kid. Ever think about the idea?" The boy's eyes burned so brightly with fear and hatred that Angelus felt the need to whip out his sunglasses merely to look in them. They were churning with rage, and in the background the vampire saw the tongues of fire and a ring of black smoke billowing. 

"Touch her, and I…will…kill you!" he seethed with such conviction that he forced Angelus to take an unnecessary step backwards. Now Angelus didn't smile when Xander threatened him; instead, he kept a straight face while he stood up and sauntered out.

"Get some rest," the demon ordered. "You need to be healthy when I start my routine of 'treatment' on you. It'll prolong the enjoyment I get out of it. I'll be back for you later." His footsteps resounded throughout the room like mourning bells in a church steeple, and Xander was reminded of a particular scene in a novel he'd actually read for an English, the classic known as _Ethan Frome_. 

Xander heard the door close with a thud as he shut his eyes quickly. He was alone again with the rats and the rotten meat and dark thoughts. _Where ever you are, Buffy, I hope you know how much I miss you, my love._


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter 5  ****

Chapter 5 

__

Xander, Xander, Xander…oh God. Xander was gone and Angelus was back, but how? When she'd seen him but two days ago, he was still the sweet, loving Angel she'd fallen for so long ago. What had happened since then to change that? 

The world spun around her in wild circles. The air was a thick, woolen blanket smothering her, refusing to let her breathe. Since she'd read the horrifying letter and viewed the frightening sketch, the temperature in the school had jumped up one hundred notches in the last few minutes, and soon Buffy was sweating bullets. Salty tears cascaded down her flawless face and dripped steadily onto the cold ground, each landing with a resounding plop! and Buffy heard the sizzle of water colliding with the hot surface. From the sidelines, a group of people gathered like birds, forming a tight semicircle to watch the show—none of them bothering to help her up or console her in any way, simply staring at her with dozens of lifeless dolls' eyes.

Buffy made a vain attempt to stand up, using the row of lockers for support. Her ankle burned with fire when she shifted her weight onto it, but the pain slowly faded into the background, along with everything else. All became nothing within an instant. The staring people ceased to exist in her world, as did all else. Suddenly, there was only she, Xander and the darkness.

He lay stretched out before Buffy on what she imagined to be the ground, though she didn't actually see any. His face was bruised and swollen with dozens of ghastly lesions, all oozing a dark red liquid. Purple and black blotches ringed the area around his beautiful eyes, stealing all of the emphasis away from the swirling chocolate pools of emotion. Xander's once richly brown and shiny hair looked dirty and unkempt, and it glistened with tiny beads of sweat. His clothes were a rumpled mess and they clung so loosely to him that Xander appeared as if he were made entirely of jeans and a T-shirt. All of these things scared Buffy—he looked deplorable—but that wasn't the worst of it.

The expression on his face screwed up in the look of severe pain: he was biting his lower lip so hard that he drew blood; his eyes were closed tightly to fight back the agony that he was experiencing; and his facial muscles were drawn taut like they would snap at any second.

Suddenly, his muscles spasmed, his entire body tensed up, his eyes flew open, and he stared straight at Buffy. His chest rose and fell like ocean waves on the shoreline, almost hypnotic, as he watched her with steady eyes. Xander's gaze was unbreakable as he stared deep into her, scanning her soul, and, try as she might, she could not severe the connection. His pleading eyes conveyed a message of unimaginable pain that was too much for Buffy. Their dark brown irises quivered like the brewing seas during a hurricane, they were filled with so much emotion.

She turned her gaze to his mouth to avoid his crying eyes. She could no longer bear to see them because it was like looking at his soul; they were so sad and empty, as if they were missing something. A perpetual stream of blood trickled revoltingly from the self-inflicted wound on his mangled lip. Once Xander had possessed some of the softest lips Buffy had ever seen, but now they had deep, bloody gashes in them, and the repeated abuse by his gnawing teeth had severely shredded them.

Then his tender lips trembled. The tortured boy mouthed a few simple words to her: "Help me, Buffy," followed up with a heart-wrenching, "I need you." Buffy felt the onslaught of her dammed up tears begin to break free when Xander tried to reach for her. She could tell it caused him tremendous pain, but he needed her, and that thought ripped her apart because she couldn't help. His fragile figure shuddered as bolts of electricity raced through him, and he shed a lone tear for Buffy, not for himself, as the slayer assumed. Buffy stretched her arm in front of her and tried to grab a hold of his ghostly white, shaking hand, but he was just out of reach, like so many other things in her sordid life. She took a step closer when, without warning, he flew backwards and farther away from her. She started running for him, but he kept slipping away into the hungry darkness that had been waiting for him. All the while he mouthed: "Please." Over and over, relentlessly pleading. Please. Please. Help me. Please.

"Xander!" she hissed after him through gasps. "Xander! Don't go!" Buffy kept racing toward the desperate figure, watching as he kept drifting away, out of her life. Another help me, followed by still another please.

"I'll find you, Xander! I'll save you! I promise. I promise…" She finally broke down completely and began sobbing miserably. Her arm was still outstretched in front of her and the darkness was back because her single light, Xander, was gone. Buffy stood alone, crying till her eyes grew red and puffy and still chanting "I promise." Her only wish was that she could save him.

__

If he dies, I die.

Gradually, the lockers faded back into view; she was still clinging to them for support. The perplexed onlookers returned, as did the throbbing in her leg and the incredibly bright fluorescent lights in the hallway. The tears and the anguish had never left.

Buffy's locker door wobbled, and she lost her balance. Before she had a chance to hit the floor, someone grabbed her and lifted her up gently, lovingly. His arms encircled her and hugged her reassuringly as he pulled her to her feet. Buffy had a flashback to the last night at the cemetery—as she'd done so many times that day already—when she stumbled and fell right into Xander's strong arms. Xander… 

Buffy smiled and wrapped her arms around the person holding her. "Oh, Xander!" she cried and buried her face into his shoulder, pulling him closer at the same time. She felt Xander shrug the shoulder she sobbed on, and she glanced up at him. Sure enough, there he was, but he didn't appear happy like she'd expected; in fact, he looked concerned.

"Buffy?" His voice sounded strange, not at all like his normal jocular self. Buffy looked at him again—really looked—with a hint of curiosity in her eyes and did a double take. It wasn't Xander Harris after all; it was her ex-boyfriend Scott Hope.

"Scott? Where's Xander. Where is he?" she demanded, taking him by the collar and giving him a good shake. "Where?!"

He stuttered, unsure of how to respond, "I… I don't know where. I h…haven't seen him today. Maybe he's home sick.

"Buffy, are you feeling all right? I think you should go to the nurse. Here're your crutches. I'll take you there, come on." Scott tugged her arm to urge her onward. 

Buffy shook her head vehemently and snatched the crutches from his hands. "I _need_ to go to the library. I _need_ to see Giles."

"Later, Buffy. I really think you should go to the nurse," Scott urged.

Buffy ignored him and pushed the boy to the side coldly, using her crutches as a makeshift plow. "Get out of my way," she spat.

"Wait, Buffy!" Scott shouted after her. "You forgot these!"

The blonde slayer whirled around and saw Scott waving the letter and the sketch in the air. Racing back at lightning speed with pain flashing in her ankle, Buffy ripped the papers from his hands so roughly that she sliced the delicate skin of his fingers. "Where's the ring?" she spat out nastily. Scott looked around him and announced he hadn't seen any ring. "You lie! Where is it?"

"Honest, Buffy, I didn't see any ring."

Without hesitating, she threw aside her supports and fell to the ground searching frantically for the one thing of Xander's she had left to treasure. "Move!" she growled to Scott and the rest of the observers. After several minutes of unsuccessful, thorough seeking, Buffy collapsed and wept on the cold ceramic floor.

"Is that it over there?" offered one of Buffy's classmates, an onlooker. Her head jerked up and Buffy looked in the direction where the girl's finger was pointing. Off in the distance, under a heater, something gold glinted. The ring. She sighed with relief and crawled on her hands and knees over to it. Ignoring the dustbunnies and the old, crumbling cobwebs, Buffy thrust her hand under the heater and groped for Xander's class ring, then let out a squeal when her hand closed around it. "Thank god!" she muttered as she held the ring lovingly in the palm of her hand. She slipped the chain she'd been wearing through the finger hole and fastened the necklace around her slender neck. From now on she was planning on keeping it close to her heart, where it belonged.

The bell finally rang for the start of second period after what had seemed like eons. The crowd that had gathered to watch her had dissipated and she was left alone again, just like in her dream. Or premonition. Or omen. Or whatever it had been.

Buffy crept back over to her crutches and slowly managed to pull herself up onto them. She hobbled over to the library and found Giles still reading the same novel as he'd been reading earlier that morning.

This time he immediately noticed her and the tragic mist that accompanied her in. Her bloodshot eyes and tear stained face brought him instantly to her side. "Buffy? What happened, what's wrong?" he interrogated in a fatherly voice. She handed Giles Angelus' presents to him and he glanced at them quickly, scanning their contents. His face contorted with fear and a look of nausea as he whispered, "Oh my God."


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
Cordelia Chase, the embodiment of popularity, sauntered down to the library during the middle of her second period class. She'd received a hall pass half way into the class with the orders to head directly to the library, "ASAP, Miss Chase." She knew something was up, that this was going to be about some demon, or vampire, or evil prophecy; it always was. Cordy knew because she was on her way to the library, which meant Giles, and where there was Giles, there was Buffy, and wherever there was Buffy, there was mayhem right behind her, nipping at her unfashionable heels. Of course, if Buffy were there and in any sort of danger, there would be Xander, Cordy's boyfriend, there to watch Buffy's back and eager to lend her a shoulder to cry on.   
  
Actually, Cordelia didn't even know why she was wound so tight every time Xander was with the slayer. Before, she'd really had a reason to complain about her boyfriend hanging all over the beautiful blonde, for he usually did just that. But after Buffy had killed Angel and fled Sunnydale, he'd sort of given up his dream of one day rescuing his fair maiden and being rewarded with a long-awaited kiss and the promise of her undying love for him. He'd finally come to realize that she'd left because she loved another, and his vision of this fairy tale life with her was exactly what it was, a vision, and an empty hope. Though it had hurt Xander very deeply, gradually, he'd come to accept the fact that Buffy wasn't to return, and Xander had finally warmed to Cordelia.   
  
Now, whenever Xander would spot Buffy off in the distance, he wouldn't go charging off like a fearless knight, waving his sword and shield in the air. Quite the opposite. Now he'd stand by Cordelia, just kind of watching the slayer out of the corner of his eye. After Buffy had returned, Xander was also pretty quick to argue with her, and Cordelia presumed that it was due to the fact that he'd had to keep so much anger and sadness inside when she'd left. And when the two would meet, there was always this tense atmosphere that floated low around them and never really seemed to lift. Their entangling past had become the proverbial pink elephant in the room-everyone noticed it, but no one ever mentioned it, and they all tried to ignore it.  
  
As Cordelia approached the school library, she switched gears and thoughts. She waltzed in with that special air that always preceded Cordelia Chase: the air of sophistication and class. Inside, she spotted Willow and Oz huddling in the corner of the room, Giles with his usual mile-high stack of books, and Faith with her arm around Buffy's shoulder as she attempted to console her. Where was Xander in the midst of all this sadness? Probably hasn't gotten here yet, Cordy thought.  
  
She marched over to the table where Faith and Buffy sat and took a seat with them. That's when she noticed Buffy was crying. Her face was wet with fresh tears, her eyes bright red and appearing glassy, with a far away look to them. Nothing made Buffy cry, ever. Something bad had happened, something incomprehensibly despicable.  
  
@~~`~~~  
  
Xander slipped in and out of quick fits of troubled sleep filled with nightmares of Buffy dying before him. He could never really recall much from them, only that they terrified the hell out of him and that they'd always leave him screaming, "No!" He'd be sweating bullets and whipping about like he was in the grips of a seizure until the tidal waves of pain washed over him, leaving him moaning in agony. And as he'd lie there in the aftermath of his nightmare, little clips of it would flash behind his eyelids-fluttering butterflies of lights and images, their paper wings dazzling palettes of color.  
  
Xander would be standing there-nothing but unending blackness spanning the area, covering all traces of light and color-and suddenly, she'd magically appear before him, running toward him with her arms wide open, chanting his name, and all the fantastic hues would flood back into the scene. Buffy would be racing to him; however, he'd just stay where he was, staring at her, despite what everything inside him told him to do. Then Buffy would halt, cock her head and lower her arms to her sides.   
  
Shaking his head violently, Xander cried, "No more!" He was now back in reality, or was he? Xander wasn't really sure anymore. If Angel could just mystically return from Hell, then anything could happen; all was within the realm of possibility. No, he was sure he was back in the dark room-the smell of the rotting meat remained clinging to the air, its invisible hooks latched deeply into the hollow emptiness of space.  
  
For the next few minutes, Xander composed himself. He had no desire to remember his dream. If it could produce such strong, lingering effects such as screaming and hard sweating, then he sure as hell didn't want to know why. No dream in his past had ever had such an effect on him, and he frantically prayed that no other one ever would again.   
  
To prevent himself from drifting off again, Xander attempted to open his eyes all the way. Though it took all of his remaining strength and a good bit of self-discipline to ignore the sharp pinching sensation in the back of his skull, his eyes flittered open and darted around the room, inspecting it strictly. Directly in front of him was a huge steel door with monstrous bolts jutting out around its perimeter and the simple letters "A.M.F." imprinted plainly in its center. The initials provoked the boy into pondering their meaning and into pondering what lay outside the ominous portal. And there, standing right next to the way out, was the fan Xander had heard earlier that morning, stirring the foul-smelling air like a witch's brew in a cauldron.   
  
At the base off the door, he saw a shadow jump and move, resembling a demon in manner, and for all he knew, it was one. As it turned out though, the dancing shadow was nothing more than one of the twisted, fiercesome-looking rats Xander heard scuttling about earlier. The gruesome thing was huge with dark brown fur and fire red eyes so small they looked like scabs on its filthy skin, and its disgusting yellow teeth poked out obscenely over its invisible bottom lip. The tiny beast hissed with rage at Xander and scurried off hurriedly to another corner, making sure the boy followed it with his eyes.  
  
Xander wondered why the rats hadn't attacked him yet. They should have been swarming over him by now, yet strangely, they weren't; they practically showed no interest in him at all. He was fresh meat, there for the taking, smelling of blood, with no way to defend himself, and still they refused to attack. Not that Xander minded any since he preferred there be something left of him when it came time to say goodbye to Buffy-if there came a time to say goodbye that is (he was really hoping that there wasn't ever going to be a need for that.).  
  
His eyes pursued the foul creature of darkness to the far corner that it'd run to, and when he saw what the beast was standing on, he shrieked. "Lord no! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God..." he repeated over and over as Xander frantically tried to get away from the vile heap in the corner. The traumatized boy pulled himself into a sitting position, resting his head on his knees, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that colored dots danced hypnotically behind them. Xander prayed for sleep, he prayed for the horrible nightmare to return, he prayed for anything to erase the gory sight now branded in the back of his mind. He now understood why the room possessed that vicious rank.  
  
Rotten meat...  



	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven ****

Chapter Seven

Cordelia's eyes widened with sheer, unadulterated horror as Buffy informed her of what had transpired throughout the course of the interminable day. She was finally understanding why the room had such a cold, depressing air to it.

"Xander…" Buffy said wistfully, choking on a sob as she trailed off. 

Willow's head rested on Oz's chest and she was biting her trembling lower lip. He tried to reassure her through a series of comforting gestures—holding her close and soothing her hair—but it appeared to do just the opposite. Even Rupert Giles seemed uneasy without Xander's witty comments and amusing anecdotes to brighten the dreary mood. The stiff silence in the room was almost unbearable; any sound, such as a sniffle or the crinkle of paper, was welcomed, for it relieved some of the stress between the group, but even those were few and far between.

Finally: "I promised to save him."

They all turned to face Buffy squarely, each person a little startled at the sound of a voice in the room. She was picking at a nail and chewing her lip at the same time, almost rhythmically. 

Willow lifted her head from Oz's chest then asked, "What?"

Staring off blankly into space as though she there was nothing in the room but unending darkness. "I promised to save him."

"When?" questioned an astounded Willow. "When'd you see him?"

"I, I didn't 'see' him exactly. I had a dream—more like a nightmare—and he was calling out to me, not with words really, but with actions and emotions. I won't tell you much more than that because it's just too terrible to recount, but I promised I'd find him, and by God, I will.

"Oh, if only he'd stayed with me last night, this probably would never have happened. But no, Xander wouldn't have it. He just had to rush off to get to his precious 'meeting' with you, Cordy." 

Cordelia gave the distraught slayer a funny look as she replied, "What meeting?" There was genuine confusion in Cordelia's eyes; Xander never went to her house. 

"He was going to your house to see you, he told me."

Cordy gave a brief, almost disgusted snort. "Ah no, Buffy. I was out with Harmony and the other girls last night. Xander never even mentioned coming over."

"But that's what he told me," she protested. _Xander doesn't even want to be around me anymore,_ she thought glumly. _He couldn't stand me any longer, so he made up a lie just to get away from me._ Buffy began to cry again. Just in the last day, her feelings for Xander had evolved from friend, to confidant, to 'he's sort of cute,' to… Well, she wasn't exactly sure, but she wanted him back, and she was willing to fight for his life, even if it meant sacrificing her own. 

"Well, he never showed up," Cordelia replied, emphasizing the "up" with a pop.

From over in the corner, Willow chimed in softly, "He came to my house last night."

In unison, the bickering two said, "He did?"

Willow nodded and Buffy then asked why, a touch of jealously showing up in her voice. "We had to work out some issues between us, that's all."

"Hey!" Cordy shouted to Buffy, a little slow on the uptake. "What exactly did you mean by 'if Xander had stayed with you?'"

Buffy sighed exasperatley, "I asked him into my house after the 'incident' at the cemetery, but he refused."

"Good," Cordy snarled like the snobbish debutante she was.

"Bitch!" With that, Buffy launched herself at the brunette, who tried to jump out of the way of the very angry slayer. But Buffy was Buffy, and she brought Cordy down before she'd even had a chance to lift her foot in defense. There were screams and shrieks left and right as the two clawed, scratched, and kicked each other. Buffy acted totally out of character for herself, fighting like any normal teenage girl would instead of a formidable, tough slayer with Slayer Strength. Giles and Oz were quick to react, and within moments they'd separated the two catty teenage girls.

"Slut!" Buffy yelled.

"Fashion freak!" retorted Cordy with one of her normal clothing criticisms.

Buffy tried desperately to leap for Cordelia, and it took all of Giles' strength to hold her back, but he was successful. "We'll never find him at this rate!" cried the librarian angrily.

Buffy still attempted to grab Miss FashionandPopularity by the neck, but stopped dead in her tracks the instant she heard Oz's gentle voice in her ear. "Are you breaking your promise already?"

She stared wide-eyed at Oz and then started to shake, so Giles hugged her as tight as he could manage. "No, never! Never! Xander's my best friend. I'll save him, I will.

"I'm sorry Cordelia. I'm just… Oh god," she swallowed hard, "I'm just so scared." The room once again fell into the grips of silence. Buffy, scared? The two words were complete antonyms. 

__

She loves him, Willow thought, a bit surprised. Angel had always been the sole star in Buffy's sky, the only ray of light in her dark, forbidden world. Before, she wouldn't even look Xander's way when Angel would walk into a room, but now, apparently, it was different. Willow noticed recently that Buffy had started paying more attention to him, but she had never really thought anything of it at the time. When Buffy said she was scared, Willow knew she loved him—instantly she knew. At one time, this would have bothered her, knowing that her friend was in love with her best friend/crush, but no longer. She'd given up Xander for good last night in order to devote all of her love to her Oz. Willow wondered if Buffy even had an inkling as to how she felt about Xander. Watching her cry on Giles' shoulder made Willow think Buffy didn't know after all; she appeared confused, frustrated and down right terrified, but not in love. Oh, if only she could read Buffy's thoughts.

@~~`~~~

Xander found it hard to control his gagging reflex. He just wanted to vomit, purge his system of the revolting scene before him, but didn't, couldn't. _Damn you, Angelus!_ The pungent odor of decay filled his nostrils and made him nauseous, the noisome reek of death clouding his mind with gruesome scenes of violence and hurt. He had to think of something else, someone else. 

Buffy… He missed her so much already it was hard to believe, with Cordy hanging far behind the slayer in the shadows. Xander didn't know how he'd made it through those rotten, Buffyless summer months when he could hardly make it through a day without her.

The slayerette concentrated hard on her face, every appealing aspect of her body, her distinct smell, and her light tone of voice. Xander recreated Buffy in his mind perfectly, down to the minutest detail, even that "thing" Cordy was always talking about.

He envisioned her running to him, arms opened, honey blond hair fanning around her. Xander threw his arms wide as well, ready to embrace her figure the moment she reached him. 

The closer Buffy got, the happier he became. His heart swelled with delight at the thought of touching her. When she was practically inches from him, she swerved slightly and raced right passed him, leaving him by himself, hugging the air, for there was no one else to hold. 

He heard Buffy's melodic laughter coming from behind him, so her turned, and what he saw made him wish he had never done so. There she was, arms wrapped tightly around Angel's shoulders, kissing him deeply on the mouth. Angel had one arm slung low round her waist and the other was pushing her head deeper into the kiss. Suddenly, Angel broke their connection, and he looked into Xander's eyes as he lowered his head to Buffy's neck, kissing her softly there once, twice, three times, until she moaned happily. Then his face changed—his brow grew furrowed and misshapen while his fingernails evolved into barbed, predatory claws. As he brought her neck to his mouth and drew back his lips, Angel's teeth grew tapered and pointed, sharp, and long. He sank his fangs into her carotid artery, and Buffy exhaled with a throaty sigh, then proceeded to sob quietly.

"Buffy, no!" Xander yelped as he watched Buffy grow pale while Angelus drained her body dry. She shed a few useless tears that collided with the earth right before she did, the resounding splash of the droplets crashing along with the boom of angry thunder when her figure fell to the floor. 

Angelus stood, looming over her, demonically laughing. "Save her now, White Knight."

Xander raced to her side and rolled her onto her back gently, careful not to hurt his love further. She looked up into his eyes and they connected, really connected. "Xander?" she whispered into his ear.

"Hmm?" he asked, his voice evidently choked with heavy sobs.

"I'm c…cold, so cold." He pulled her limp figure into his arms and bent his upper body over her. "C…cold."

"Hush now," he ordered. "Lie still, and you'll be all right, you'll see. We'll go dancing at the Bronze and listen to Oz's band play and have lots of chocolate. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Buffy smiled weakly and nodded affirmatively. "Xander?" He looked down into her gorgeous eyes. They showed no sign of fear of what lay beyond this life; in fact, they seemed to radiate a profound knowledge of it few would ever know up until their last couple moments on Earth. "Will you t…tell me a st…story?"

"Which one do you want to hear?"

"S…sleeping Beauty."

He began the fairy tale and Buffy listened intently to every word, never interrupting even though Xander could tell by her facial expressions that he had gotten some parts of it wrong. She never interjected, only listened with a grin on her face; and as a sign of thank you for fulfilling her dying wish, she took the boy's hand and squeezed it lightly.

When he'd almost reached the end, Xander noticed Buffy slipping away. Her eyes frosted over with the visage of death dancing in them, her muscles relaxed, and as Xander watched her die, he cried, but never once deviated from the course of the story, not pausing for a single moment. 

As he finished with "And they lived happily ever after," Buffy passed away into an even deeper sleep than the one Princess Aurora had experienced, and he could tell that this spell could never be broken, not even by the kiss from her true love, from her prince. However, that didn't prevent Xander from brushing his lips across her forehead anyway as a final act of goodbye. He lowered his head to hers and kissed her softer than a summer breeze, right on her brow, hoping that she felt the kiss wherever she was now.

"Sleep tight, Princess Aurora," he whispered when he laid her down onto the ground. Xander turned from her pallid body, no longer able to control the anguish and sadness he felt inside. Burying his head into his hands, he cried, soaking himself and his true love's corpse. "Oh God," he choked, unable to breath in the stale air, "oh God."

Xander awoke, gasping for air, his lungs filling with the noxious fumes in the room. A dream, it had been a horrible dream! He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep.

What a nightmare. It had been so realistic he'd thought it had actually happened. It hadn't happened, right? Maybe it was a flashback to a scene earlier in the day that was so painful, Xander had blocked it from his mind. He prayed it wasn't because, if it were, it only meant one thing: Buffy Summers was dead.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight ****

Chapter Eight

Buffy stood silent as she stared out the library windows, not looking at the trees or buildings that graced the landscape, but beyond them, at Xander, hidden somewhere she couldn't find. She watched him writhe in agony as Angelus tortured him mercilessly, taking as much pleasure out of it as he could. Buffy knew full well that that's what the vampire was doing—torturing her best friend for fun—because that's the kind of evil Angelus was: inherently evil.

The young girl set adrift on a memory bliss of Xander. She remembered the way the boy had been before he'd been kidnapped: very handsome, with his dark eyes being his best attribute. She loved the way he'd call Giles "G-man" although he knew the Englishman hated it, and she loved the way he could bring humor to even the bleakest of situations. Buffy remembered the warm smiles he sent her way every time he saw her, and she could still hear him making his smart retorts and throwing in his two cents, even when no one asked him to. But that was just another one of the many things on her long list of why she loved Xander. 

But what Buffy loved the most was when Xander gazed into her eyes and made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world—special and beautiful. He possessed such a penetrating stare that Buffy often felt as if he were reading her mind and scrutinizing her soul at the same time. Funny thing was that the slayer never minded it one bit. She didn't care if he were interpreting her thoughts or was reading her soul, just as long as he was with her. The connection was so strong between them in moments like that, and Buffy loved that, too.

As she thought about all the traits she adored about her missing friend, she deftly placed her hand on her waist and remembered the last night she'd seen Xander. The slayer hoped that wherever he was he knew that she was missing him terribly and that so was everyone else. Buffy would have given anything at that moment to have Xander back, safe, with her and the rest of the Scooby Gang. She would have given anything to have things back the way they were—the group of them just hanging out and joking around, solving crimes together, saving the world together when it need saving—back to the way it belonged. Now was the time for her to take action and right the situation. "Enough of this standing around moping. Let's get cracking!

"Giles! What do we know?" shouted Buffy. They weren't going to accomplish the feat of getting Xander back if they didn't start moving.

The Watcher looked around nervously for a second, trying to tell the emotionally ruined slayer the truth without crushing her spirit completely. "Well, uh, nothing much because we don't exactly know where the scene of the crime is. That's a crucial piece of evidence. Without it, we can't determine much, such as the way they went, or how badly Xander is injured."

"Then that just means we have to find it," Buffy offered surprisingly optimistically. "Willow, at what time did Xander leave your house last night?"

"He stayed till about 10:30, then he rushed out. But I didn't watch him leave, so he might have been taken right outside my door for all I know."

"Fine then. We'll start outside Willow's house and work our way to his own. He had to have been taken somewhere along that route, that is, if he told you the truth as to where he was going."

"But what if he was grabbed on the way to school this morning?" asked Cordelia.

"Impossible. It was really sunny out there today. Even the Great Angelus isn't stupid enough to wander out into sunlight as pure as the rays that were shining down earlier."

"Besides," Willow added, "I always walk to school with Xander. He wasn't at our meeting spot this morning, so I assumed he was sick. I don't think his parents know; they've been on vacation since last week and are supposed to be on it for the next one as well."

"Which brings us to the next question," Giles began.

Oz finished with, "Should we call them?"

Buffy decided to answer since everyone else looked as if they had nothing to offer, "Not yet, let's try and get him home first. I don't wanna worry them." At that, Willow scoffed as though that were an impossible feat. "Anyway, what would we tell them? 'I'm sorry, but your son has been kidnapped by my ex-boyfriend-slash-bloodthirsty vampire. Don't worry though, we'll try and return him to you with all of his liquids still inside him.' No, I don't think they should know yet. If worse comes to absolute worst, we can always make up some story."

"But worse won't come to absolute worst, right Buffy? We're gonna find him before that?" Willow questioned fearfully.

"Of course we will. All of this is just hypothetically speaking."

"Well, I wish you wouldn't speak so hypothetically. It scares me." Buffy nodded to her friend in agreement, and soon positive conversation about finding Xander was resumed.

"So how are we going to get out of school?" Cordelia wondered aloud.

"There's always the door," Oz suggested, motioning to the library doors.

Cordelia rolled her eyes at the fashion victim in front of her. "Ha, ha, Oz. Very funny. But we all know that Snyder patrols the hallways. He's caught me trying to leave more than once, and I only ended up spending more time here…in detention."

"We don't have time to get detention today, Cordy. We got to get to Xander," Buffy informed.

"Yeah, well trying telling that to Snyder."

"We can exit through the windows, okay?" Buffy started for the window she'd been looking out of earlier. "Oz, you go out first so you can help me down; I don't wanna injure my leg more than I already have. I need to be ready when the time comes for my showdown with Angelus."

Oz did as he was ordered, squeezing through the window and then motioning for Buffy to come down. She passed her crutches down to him and then slipped out, feet first. Next came Willow, followed by Cordy, who was followed by the spunky Faith. "Giles!" Buffy yelled, "You coming?"

The librarian peered over the sill and said, "Ah, no thank you, Buffy, I think I'll just use the door."

"Giles the Great Comedian," the slayer muttered under her breath.

Leaves whispered secrets to each other as they scraped their dry fingers across the road, while the group waited impatiently for Giles to appear so they could finally start their search for their lost friend, the one who would complete the Scooby Gang; they went in search of Xander.

On their way to the Rosenberg house, Buffy decided they weren't prepared enough for the mission ahead. They couldn't just show up without anything with which to defend themselves. What they needed were reinforcements—weapons. So, she left the group to head back to her home in hopes that her wooden trunk would have sufficient weaponry for the six of them. 

Buffy tromped through the cemetery, taking the same route she and Xander had used the previous night. For some reason, the air just felt right for reminiscing, and before she knew it, Buffy had become nostalgic. Upon glancing to her left, where she had been ambushed, the slayer became teary-eyed when she discovered two translucent images dancing like demons amidst the headstones, surrounded by an obscuring fog. In fact, they weren't demons at all, but rather projections, of her leaning on Xander after the attack, his arms wrapped about her in a protective embrace, emanating from Buffy's mind.

The young girl was soon entranced, taken in by the appealing sight of the couple holding each other so close. Slipping silently behind the pair at a snail's pace, she watched, bemused, with an intense curiosity nagging her all the while, what were the two thinking? She'd been there, yet she still didn't know. The supernatural scene unfolded in front of her, frame by frame, and Buffy scrutinized herself closely. 

She walked alongside the eerie couple, silently reliving their last night together. Buffy stared with a hushed awe as they stopped in the middle of her street and simply communicated with their eyes, soundlessly speaking to each other on a different plane, a telepathic one. Buffy clearly remembered those few seconds in time—how could she possibly forget those feelings racing through her? She'd heard that Scott had gone out with Faith and she had been devastated—she felt betrayed and alone, yet Xander just held onto her, staring deep into her eyes, reading her thoughts and comforting her as best he could. Though she was limping, the ghost Buffy seemed content to be with the ghost Xander, and to the real Buffy, it seemed the feeling between the two was mutual. Instead of concentrating on the best way to get home, the blonde just watched the pair, following them slowly, knowing where they were goings anyway. Perhaps that had been how he had known the list of things she'd wanted when they'd reached her house—he'd read her mind.

Buffy walked with the transparent shapes all the way to the threshold of her house. They opened the a phantom door and entered as spirits would through the real one. The actual slayer opened the portal to her house and quickly slipped inside so she wouldn't lose track of the two for even a moment. Xander carried Buffy upstairs, just like he had a mere night ago, with extra care, and laid her down gently onto her bed, making a huge fuss over her.

She watched as the pair acted out the last time Buffy had seen her best friend and she wanted desperately to cry, but didn't, couldn't, because she was all cried out. It was time to move, time to stop all the sulking and sobbing and feeling guilty in favor of fighting.

As she turned her back on the pair, Buffy began to root through her wooden chest of weapons, every so often pulling a mean-looking crossbow or sword from it and setting it to the side. All in all, when she had finished her searching, Buffy had two crossbows, a sword, two bottles of holy water, and two big wooden crosses, all spelling disaster for any vampire. The last thing she withdrew from the large oak box was the stake Kendra had given her—Mr. Pointy the other slayer had called it. Buffy smiled as she held the wickedly sharp piece of wood in her hand, thinking of Kendra, her friend, her fellow slayer who was now dead, killed by Druscilla's hand. She shoved the vicious killing machines into her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder, ready for battle.

Leaving the room, Buffy eased herself down the stairs, dragging her crutches by her side and holding on tightly to the railing for added support.

When she had reached the ground floor, Buffy decided to write a note to her mother to explain why she wasn't going to be home that night. 

__

Mom,

Gone a slayin' for the night. Gotta save Xander Harris from certain doom. Home 4 dinner.

Luv ya, Buff

She wondered how she could be so jovial about the whole Xander-being-kidnapped subject when she'd been so touchy and prone to tears earlier. The only explanation she could offer herself was that she had passed up the terrified stage she wasn't used to, and moved onto the slayer's normal let's-kick-some-vampire-ass stage. 

After pasting the note to the refrigerator, Buffy left her house ready for the war that lay ahead, and she observed the tumultuous sky undulating above her. Within the ten minutes she'd spent inside, already the weather had gone from calm and warm, to windy and cold. The once clear blue sky hung low and threatening over the Hellmouth—fitting—with huge gray and black clouds disseminating throughout the empyrean, their underbellies heavy with the burden of tons of water. The steady boom of thunder rolled throughout the land and echoed off of the walls of houses with the cataclysmic clash of metal screeching on metal. Blinding bolts of lightning lashed the air and the inauspicious clouds began to weep the first few droplets of rain. 

Something on the lawn caught her attention, and Buffy saw the phantom Xander before her, looking back at her bedroom window, waving, with a mischievous grin on his face. Nevertheless, an underlying presence of guilt surrounded him, probably from lying so blatantly to her (at least, that was what she hoped the reason for the look was). The rain fell through the boy and splashed the ground on which he appeared to stand. The sky seemed to be crying her lost tears for her, picking up on her melancholy mood. 

Stepping out into the storm, Buffy, consequently, became drenched almost immediately, but she didn't seem to mind at all. It was for this kind of weather and these types of situations that Buffy had been born. She was the slayer, destined for a life of hardships and pain. By now, she'd come to accept the fact that she would be the slayer for a long time to come, and when she could finally give up the crazy profession, she would miss it: the action, the adventure, the friends that came along with it.

She trudged on through the rain, onto bluer skies and sunnier days, but she knew she'd never get there without Xander. She still had a job to do, and damned if she weren't going to do it and do it well.

Angelus wanted a battle and he was going to get a war. This time Buffy would really put him in his place, even if that place were Hell. He was Angel no longer, and it was high time that she realized that, though she'd only wished she'd seen the light sooner.

Off she went, to fulfill her destiny, not to mention, save someone else's, all the while thinking, _Watch out, Angelus, because here comes Buffy the Vampire Slayer_.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine ****

Chapter Nine

Angelus sat in the empty corridor, taping his fingers incessantly on the floor in anticipation. He could sense them coming, the whole lot of them, rallying their forces and creating their battle plan. _Let them come,_ Angelus thought. _They don't threaten me any. I'll kill every single one of them before the day is out._ Keeping in that positive mood of thinking, Angelus augured the outcome of the battle that still lay just beyond the horizon, and all he could see was himself, standing over the slayer's exsanguinated corpse, in the middle of a room full of dead slayerettes. 

The vampire was getting anxious for the arrival of the great showdown. He had been honing his skills and he was now ready for the fight. Also, Angelus felt the insistent need to kill Xander itching in the back of his skull. That annoying boy had caused him so many setbacks in both the past and the present he didn't dare think about them lest he upset himself to the point where he'd just break the teenager in two, as he wanted to do so very many times.

What ticked him off even more was the fact that Xander loved Buffy deeply, and more importantly, she returned that love. He had seen the passions the two harbored for the other during the previous evening while he watched them in the cemetery from a tree, and Angelus didn't like it one bit. Of course, it would be more fun torturing Xander and, in doing so, hurting Buffy. But at the same time, it relinquished his emotional grip on her mind, making him unable to manipulate the ingenious blonde with his phony Angel acts, which had always got her to let her guard down in the past. However, all of this wouldn't really matter when it came time to fight because he was going to win; he was at least sure of that much. And Angelus would be again allowed to roam freely through Sunnydale, hell, through the world if he so choose. Just like in the good old days.

How fondly he remembered the those ancient times when he could just wander from village to village, slaughtering hundreds, feeding on their coppery sweet blood. What an appetite he'd had then! But when he'd gotten that damned soul back, Angelus recalled the "happiness" he'd experienced in the time he often privately referred to as the Dark Ages. Those were the days when he couldn't feast on the weak, couldn't enjoy the wonderful feeling that now coursed through his veins every time he drained the life out of some helpless passerby. Oh, how he loathed to think back to those days, his Lost Years, when he'd actually HELPED the innocent, saved them instead of sucking their blood like any other decent vampire would do. And all because of one blonde teenager, a mere girl named Buffy Summers.

Oh, Buffy. How Angelus had come to hate the name with every drop of malice his non-existent heart had to offer. She'd brought him so close to humanity, closer than he'd ever been to it before, and on top of it all, made him experience that evil thing called love. How she'd managed to do it, Angelus would never know; all he knew was that she'd done it, and he'd loved her. Well, technically it hadn't been him—it had been that wimp Angel, the good vampire that he had been ashamed to know was inside him—but even then it was still his body that was in love with her. And how he had loved her! Every waking moment had been for Buffy; he'd dream of her during the day, and at night, comb the cemeteries for any sign of her. What made the love even more special was the fact that she had returned his feelings and had no problem telling that to anyone else. As Angelus thought back, he actually wished he'd made love to her sooner, for, as it turned out, that was the only way the vampire could have lost his now dreaded soul and be free to run rampant through the streets again. Yes, it was only when they tried to make their emotional love become physical that literally all hell broke lose, and Angelus' two favorite things—terror and suffering—ensued. After that, he'd experienced a strong zeal to kill the slayer and her pals, much like the olden times, and he'd acted on it, and the rest was history.

Now here he sat, in the hallway of an abandoned meat factory, drumming his blood-encrusted fingers on the chilly cement floor, sucking up the very faint aroma of blood that still lingered in the empty hallways from years of butchering long past, and anticipating the moment when he could finally reenter the old meat locker and begin his routine of intense, mind-numbing torture on Xander. Oh, what incredible fun that was going to be; to feel the stupid child wince under each brutal lash the vampire sent flying his way, to feel his heart race, to feel his blood pulse within his veins, to taste it. He cast a fast sideways glance at his watch. Quarter till eleven. Only 15 more minutes and then the fun would begin.

@~~`~~~

No, unthinkable, Buffy Summers dead? Impossible_._ Xander knew he'd never let anything harm her, and he most certainly wouldn't let anyone kill her; he would die before he let that happen. 

__

I've got to stop thinking this way, Xander decided. He'd rather watch the grisly scene ahead of him than imagine that Buffy was dead.

His head throbbed ardently and his wrists were beginning to burn from ceaselessly grating up and down against the rope. His muscles ached with a tired feeling he'd never experienced before in all his youthful days and never wanted to again, and an intense languor plagued the poor boy and gave him a mild migraine. If only Xander could use his hands. He wanted nothing more than to just rub his eyelids with his fingers and soak up the relaxing sensation each circular motion produced.

But what Xander really desired over all else was to sleep forever and never have another nightmare about his beloved. All of these nightmares were keeping him awake, and by now, he was so exhausted that if he weren't dead already, he might just die. Xander would've given practically anything for one hour of peaceful, uneventful slumber, but he knew that was one of the many things he wasn't going to get.

The young boy wondered what time it was; he couldn't see his watch (actually, he couldn't even feel it anymore), and since there were no windows, he couldn't even judge from the sky if it was day or night, though, at this point in time, it didn't really matter which it was. He just hoped that someone would come for him soon because Xander surely wasn't looking forward to Angelus tormenting him. He could only pray that Buffy would hurry and find the clue he left her back at Willow's place, for it was his only hope of ever getting out alive.

@~~`~~~

Coming through the silken blanket of fog was the ghastly apparition of the vampire slayer named Buffy. She still appeared graceful, even on her crutches, taking large strokes and closing the gap between Rupert Giles and herself rather quickly. Though she looked like the Buffy he'd seen just a half-hour ago, this Buffy now seemed to posses renewed vim and was showing an effervescence she hadn't shown all day. In moments, she had climbed Willow's porch steps and was standing amongst the group, barely taking notice in the fact that she was the only one dripping wet.

Giles was relieved to see that Buffy was ten times happier than she'd been the first few hours of the morning. He was especially glad to know that her deep depression and self-pity phase had been merely transitory, and now she was ready to move on and finish what she'd started; he was thankful for that much.

Ever since Angelus had taken away his Jenny, he had hated him with all that his empty soul had to offer. That vampire had ruthlessly murdered her, then displayed her corpse in Giles' house as if Jenny were nothing but an animal at the zoo, there simply for people to gawk at. She'd meant so much to Giles, to all of them—a fact that Angelus had known quite well and used to his full advantage. Rupert had never gotten a chance at revenge because Buffy had sent Angelus to Hell before he could do anything (not that he'd minded any), but he'd always wanted to hurt Angelus the way Angelus had hurt him. Giles wanted to take away the most important thing to Angel and crush it into nothingness, pulverize it, obliterate any happiness in his life, steal away his sunshine, and force him to live out the rest of his days in a dark hole filled with nothing but unending pain and quiet torment. Of course, he never let this information of his secret vendetta on to anyone else for fear of them thinking he'd gone mad, but over these months the urge for revenge had always been present, and at the same time, had grown considerably stronger.

"Giles?" Faith called. "You there? I think Giles has nodded off or something."

"Uh, yes, I mean, no, I mean, I'm here. What's going on?"

"Buffy's got our game plan all laid out and we were just waiting to hear it. So what's our first move, B?"

She looked from one slayerette to another, studying each individual's face and expression. They all seemed a little frightened and confused, but they were obviously all ready for the battle that lay ahead. 

"The first thing I'm gonna do is arm you guys; you'll need some weaponry." Buffy handed out the weapons: A crossbow for Giles and another for Faith, a sword for Oz, and a bottle of holy water and a cross each for both Willow and Cordelia. The slayer was to keep Mr. Pointy for herself, and Mr. Pointy alone, despite Giles' argument the she should have more armaments to protect herself. "I wanna stake him with my own two hands, not have some arrow or long sword do the work for me," she'd argued right back.

"All right, enough of this bickering!" shouted Faith. "Let's get to work. So what are we supposed to do now, B?"

Looking left, right, then back to Faith on the left, Buffy answered, "We're going to split up and spread out over the perimeter."

Everyone listened intently as she shot out orders. "Willow, cover every inch of your lawn. Look for any evidence of a fight, anything of Xander's that might lead us to find him. Leave no stone unturned, ignore nothing."

"Gotcha," Willow said, readying her umbrella.

"Oz, you've got the next couple of houses up the street. Look for the same stuff I mentioned before.

"Faith, you've got those few houses there," Buffy commanded, motioning across and up the road.

"Cordelia, you've got the house across the street. Make sure you go over the place carefully, twice if you have to. And Cordy, don't do a half-assed job like you normally do. Follow through with something for once in your life." Cordelia scowled deeply, but managed to keep her retorts to herself and save them for a more choice time.

Giles nodded affirmatively as had the rest of the group when Buffy ordered, "Last, but not least, Giles. I want you to take those houses down there, on the right." 

"Just holler if you find anything, absolutely anything that'll help. And search everywhere, you guys. Cover every square inch cause we're not leaving until we find something. I won't settle for less than anything, got it? If you need me, I'll be down here, searching the road itself. Okay, let's go, let's find Xander."

They broke from their huddle and dispersed to the areas they had been assigned. As they walked, Buffy couldn't help but notice that she was the only one without an umbrella or raincoat; she just walked right out into the violent weather, not minding it one bit.

On the roadway, jumping right into her task, Buffy's eyes darted from right to left constantly, inspecting each hole and every crack, searching for anything that would be of some help to them. It took her a long while to cover only a few feet and already her neck ached from bowing it so long while searching for clues. _Good, it means I'm being thorough._ Numerous times as the search dragged on, Buffy had given a thought to quitting and abandoning this needle-in-a-haystack, hide-and-go-seek game, but quickly threw that idea out in favor of a more positive one.

Glance right, left, right again. Nothing. Keep going. Be persistent. Buffy began to wonder what time it was anyway because seemed like it was almost midnight, it was so black. She paused briefly for a quick peek at her watch and discovered it to be only eleven in the morning. The slayer couldn't help but think darkly to herself, _Boy time flies when you're having fun._ Glance right, left, right again…


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten ****

Chapter Ten

Xander heard the huge metal door swing open followed by the resounding ring of heavy leaden footsteps crossing the floor slowly to him. All other sounds faded away as the footsteps tried to instill a fear that Xander had just recently conquered.

"Guess what?" Angelus asked.

Keeping unearthly silent, Xander simply stared vacuously at the vampire, as if looking through him; this time he wasn't going to take the bait, this time he was ready for whatever the vampire threw his way.

"It's eleven o'clock exactly. You know what that means?" Silence. "It means it's party time." The quivering boy heard the soft rustle of shifting fabric as Angelus bent down on one knee next to Xander's ear and lightly touched his abductee's neck with his icy fingers, dragging them purposefully along the throbbing artery hidden within the column of his tender throat.

Quietly, he inquired, "Wanna know how this is gonna work?" The only reply Angelus received was Xander's ragged breathing and the scuffle of a few pairs of rats' feet as they ran across the cement floor to the twisted monstrosity in the corner.

"Answer me, dammit!" he cried, his booming voice resonating off of the metal walls like a echo in the mountains. When the stubborn teen refused to answer yet again, refused to react at all, Angelus kicked him hard, once for good measure. "Now," he said in a calmer, hushed tone, "do you want to know how this is going to work?" No reply. The more Xander ignored him, the angrier the demon got, his rage finally bubbling over its rim when he delivered yet another rib-cracking blow to Xander's side, laughing harshly as Xander choked on his own blood and coughed thickly, a little bit of dark burgundy saliva dribbling onto his chin. "You're going to answer me now, or else suffer the most painful of consequences," he uttered, raising his leg threateningly in the air to prepare himself to send another kick into the poor kid's chest.

"No!"

"No, what?"

"No, I don't wanna know how this is going to work," the timorous boy squeaked.

Angelus glared evilly at Xander, his eyes devoid of any compassion or feeling, just black, unending hatred brewing in their murky depths. As Xander stared grievously into them, his gaze unwavering, he swore he saw something move within them—something oily black and serpentine in nature slithered around the pupils and coiled up into a tight ball—something as inherently evil as the being that possessed it. "Wrong answer," he stated flatly, the shadowy monster in his eyes stirring at the sense of the dark emotion of loathing as he brought his colossal foot down square in the center of Xander's chest. 

He wheezed and moaned, pain coursing throughout his veins, spidery webs of it encasing his chest like a second set of ribs, and a gurgling noise originating from the back of his throat with each passing breath he took. While Angelus cackled at his destroyed body, Xander choked back tears and whimpered miserably from the amount of suffering he'd already had to endure and also for the tremendous amount of suffering he knew was soon to come.

"What's the correct answer?"

"Yes," Xander muttered weakly, hurting even more from the fact that he'd given in to the enemy so quickly. He felt as though he had somehow let Buffy down by answering Angel's question like this, and he feared her opinion that he was a wimpy little coward would lessen even further because of it.

"Excellent! You got one right. Since you want to know so badly, I guess I'll tell you. What we're going to do is this: I'm gonna ask you a question, you're gonna answer it to the best of your knowledge. (By the way, I can tell if you're lying to me.) If you refuse to comply, then, well…" He paused briefly, "Let's just say it won't be pleasant. Clear?"

Through gritted teeth: "Yes."

"Terrific! Let's begin.

"First question, hell, let's just go for the gold," he interrogated slyly, over-enthused by the recent turn of events, "what are your exact feelings for Buffy?"

Xander was taken aback. He hadn't really expected anything like that, at least not at this point so early into their "session." This wasn't a conversation he wanted to be having with Buffy's former lover, rather with Buffy herself, someday far down the road. He knew not what to tell Angelus, for he had said that he would know if Xander were lying or not and had implied that he would cause the boy great pain if he did so. But Xander _really_ didn't want to confess his hidden love for Buffy to Angelus, of all people. Time to see what his choices were: lie, suffer the consequences; tell the truth, suffer the consequences. Not a very wide array of selections for him to pick from. What if Angelus _were_ bluffing about knowing if Xander were lying or not. What if all he wanted was the truth from the slayerette so he could hurt him more? He had to find out before he made such an important decision. 

"Ask me another question."

A smirk inched up Angelus' face. "Just answer this one."

"I wanna know if you can tell if I'm lying or not before I answer _that_ one. Ask me a simple, but not obvious question; one that only I would know."

After a momentary pause, he began. "Very well. Why is it that your parents are never home? Ever?"

Xander pondered over this one for a minute. Good question. His mother, the flight attendant, was always busy with work and was constantly off on some trip somewhere: Barbados, Tokyo, Berlin, it didn't matter, because most of the time she was with a man other than his dad. On the other hand, there was his father, the good doctor on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week, but he was no better at keeping his marital vows than his wife was. More than once Xander had caught his dad "examining" one of his female patients a little too closely. Not even Willow knew that his parents weren't on their current vacation together, but were with one of their numerous love interests (which they had more of than Baskin Robbins has flavors of ice cream). 

Xander decided wisely to tell Angelus the complete truth and told him all about his parents many love interests and their frequent absences because they were on vacation, although he did throw in the lie that his parents were actually on vacation with each other this time.

There was another pause as the vampire finished digesting all of the story. "You're telling me the truth, except for the part about them being together during this current vacation," Angelus announced rather proudly, giving the boy a strange half-grin.

__

Okay, so he isn't bluffing.

"Now, back to the original question. Remember, your words govern my actions." Angelus' eyes were brimming with merriment. He had the child exactly where he wanted him: he lies, he's in trouble; he tells the truth, likewise. In a low, tremulous voice, he answered, "I, I love her."

"Oh, you love her, sure, but _how_ do you love her? There are many different forms of love, I'm sure you know," the demon prodded gleefully. "For example: buddy-buddy love, puppy love, _true_ love…"

"I love her," he began hesitantly, his heart shaking in fear, "more than anything."

"More than sweet, lovely Cordy?" he inquired, putting extra sarcasm on the sweet.

"More than my life."

Angelus clapped his hands in joy. Finally, Angelus thought, the truth comes out. He gave a hardy laugh and danced excitedly around the captured slayerette. "I knew it, I knew it!" he chanted, circling his prey like a vulture in the sky. Angelus rubbed his hands together vigorously as he said, "I've known it all along, saw it in your eyes, noticed it your actions, heard it in your voice whenever you spoke of her. 

"Isn't it funny how, although you've been there for her consistently, been Mr. Dependability—never leaving her side—remaining with her throughout the sunlit day and her cold, dark, lonely nights, she always chose Angel over you? _Always_. Doesn't the simple fact that she loves someone else (something else) gnaw at your insides day after interminable day; doesn't it nibble away at your empty, puny soul?" Angelus was up in Xander's face by now, breathing disgusting, pungent fumes upon him, causing him to shy away from the vampire. A sudden, concerned look fluttered across Angelus' face, as fleeting as a solar eclipse. "I'll bet the fact that she rejected your heart so blatantly is far worse than anything I can ever dish out, and I'll bet nothing out there can ameliorate that pain."

Angelus' capricious attitudes were among his most frightening attributes, Xander reflected. One moment he was the Devil incarnate, and the very next, he appeared concerned and uneasy, like he didn't know where he was or what he was doing there. At other times, he was uncommonly violent and then promptly calm and collected again. His temper was a volatile chemical that, when mixed with the wrong ingredients—say, for instance, Xander—would subsequently explode like fireworks on the Fourth of July. The vampire's invariably changing demeanor gave Xander little clue as to what was going on inside that beast's head, and in all honesty, he _really_ didn't care to know. 

@~~`~~~

The moment he'd realized Xander was already in more agony than he could ever inflict, Angelus had been upset. Upset? Hell, he was ready to break something, anything, preferably the boy. How could he torture someone now who already felt the effects of it everyday? Now, how was he going to have his fun? The only card he had left in his hand was the queen, Buffy Summers the Vampire Slayer to be exact. He still could murder her, still could make Xander watch, and in doing so, rip out the insides of the boy, the very first thing being his heart.

Oh, why had he asked such a ludicrous question when he knew the answer anyway? It had dragged him from his few triumphant seconds in time, into a pit of depression where the walls of mud and decay were caving in around him. The only light at the end of his blackened tunnel was Buffy…her dead body being cradled by a hollow, ruined Xander. All he had to do was complete the task he'd set out to finish in the first place, and he'd once again experience the zenith of his life as before.

__

Just kill the slayer and all your problems will simply fade away. Fade away…

@~~`~~~

The inauspicious weather conditions weren't aiding them in their quest, but rather hindering their progress (what little of it they'd made), keeping them from finding the crucial clues on the first go-round.

Nobody had called for her yet, so obviously no one had discovered anything of real value or importance. Buffy was beginning to give up hope; they'd never find anything in a storm like this.

Raging winds whipped around her in huge gusts, sweeping her wet, matted hair off of her face and plastering it to the back of her head in a knotted, sticky mess. Fat drops of rainwater clung loosely to her long eyelashes and trails of the crystalline liquid glimmered like diamonds in the headlights of the passing cars. Buffy's now bedraggled clothing accentuated her already curvy figure to the point where her body resembled that of Betty Boop's. Row after row of black storm clouds rolled in overhead, bringing with them more torrential rain, blinding lightning, powerful winds, and rumbling thunder; the five seemed to accompany each other everywhere. Nothing stirred within the iron grip of the roaring weather, except maybe a few leaves not yet glued to the water soaked road. There was nothing to see but the rain and lightning; nothing to hear but the incessant grumble of the angry heavens; nothing else to feel but the wind driving the drops of water roughly against the skin. Essentially, there was nothing but the storm and Buffy, left to duke it out to see who would prevail overall.

Trying to find any clue in the storm seemed entirely hopeless to Buffy, and she was sure that the others were probably all feeling the same way right about then—the same desperation and need, the same fear. What would have been left—like a footprint or scuff marks—would be obliterated in the washing machine encasing them.

The lightning's strange strobe effects increased the slayer's problems tenfold because now she had a flickering road to contend with, and it jumped before her eyes, making her lose her place consistently. Buffy's normally relaxed nerves were on end and her head ached with a queer tingling sensation as a direct result of staring at the cursed pavement for so long, straining to find anything at all. Every time the lightning would crash, she would pound one crutch on the road surface in anger and frustration and grunt while clenching and unclenching her hands.

"Anything yet?" cried Buffy out only to find that the howling wind ate her words like a rapacious wolf prowling through woods in search of prey. And that fact was unsettling to the slayer because, in this case, she was the prey. Buffy hadn't really expected any answer, and she got none.

Returning her eyes to the roadway, she rubbed the back of her crooked neck with her hand as she bent head down to repeat the search one more time—the last time. After this, she decided they were moving on to the next street.

__

Damn lightning, she cursed as another brilliant bolt of fire yellow and cerulean blue flashed across the undulating empyrean and forced her eyes to skip to the base of the sidewalk, deviating from their proper course. Another flash. _Damn_— she started silently again, but before she could finish her thought, she had dropped to her knees—crutches thrown carelessly beside her—and began digging furiously at a pile of wet leaves transfixed to the wall of the cement. 

__

Oh, how could I be so stupid? she asked herself as she carefully peeled each gooey leaf from the roadway and quietly thanked the storm, a complete turn around from the few prior seconds when she'd damned it.

There it was, her clue to Xander, her hope, glittering brilliantly in the dazzling slashes of electricity that ripped slices with their burning talons of fire out of the blackened heavens. She knew that what she was holding was Xander's because she had bought it for him for his birthday a year ago. The clue was a cross, a little gold piece with an inscription Buffy remembered well. It rested long ways, the longer leg pointing up the street, north, to the ends of town. She wished she had noticed it earlier, stopped her complaining and just gotten down to business; they probably would have found Xander by now! What time was it anyway? 12:30 already! Where had the morning gone?

Back to the task at hand. Was the clue planted or not? Most likely yes because the inscription seemed to fit _too_ perfectly to the situation; it was so close it was scary. Whether Xander had left it for her, or Angelus had, it really didn't matter because it was going to lead her right to him. Even if Angelus had left the cross, he probably still would want Buffy to come right to him. His note had obviously indicated that he was anxious to see her, very anxious. And what better way to get her to come right to him than cryptic notes and backasswards clues? Of course, Angelus could always have wrote her a note showing her where they were, or could have hinted to her in a menacing phone call, but all that was too easy—they weren't Angelus' style. Make 'em work for it, that was his twisted philosophy. Besides, this just bought him time to wear in his new toy.

Once again, her eyes fell to the inscription. Its eerie words that strangely matched what was going on at the moment echoed in the back of her mind, off the walls of her throbbing skull. She unconsciously fingered the cross, rubbing her thumb over the engraved words as if reading them through her fingertips, feeling the smoothness of the strangely heated metal and the cold dampness of the falling rain on the back of her exposed hand contrast sharply. Then, Buffy stared down at the engraving intently for a moment, branding the words in the back of her mind: _Let this be your guide. From: Buffy To: Xander._ Ooh, eerie, in a really cheesy horror flick sorta way—the phrase was actually kind of corny when she thought about it, but at that point in time it was the furthest thing from her mind. It was practically telling her to follow where the cross was pointing to find her best friend. Like a road map, _Only without any real sorta directions,_ she laughed ironically.

Abruptly, a surge of nostalgia washed through the slayer's body and propelled her back in time to the day of Xander's eighteenth birthday…

__

He came into school all smiles, with Cordelia on his arm and an excited air about him. It was his eighteenth birthday, and he was even happier because of the simple fact that his parents were home to celebrate with him. 

Buffy wondered what exactly his parent's story was, but she didn't want to spoil his ecstatic mood by going into that obviously uncomfortable topic that wasn't germane at the time anyway. Instead, she eased over to his side and decided to make him even happier by giving him his gift.

"Happy birthday!" she exclaimed, still concealing his present behind her back.

"Buffy!" he cried. "You remembered!"

"Of course I did. How could you even assume that I'd forgotten the day Alexander LaVelle Harris was born? Why, it's practically a national holiday. Besides, you're one of my best friends; there's no way I could forget something as important as your birthday." She threw in wounded tone of voice and pouted her lips flirtatiously.

Cordelia, having seen enough for her own tastes, relinquished her grip on Xander's arm and trotted off down the hallway to her locker, never once turning her head back for even a quick glance at the pair obviously entranced with one another.

The very moment his girlfriend had disappeared from view, Xander threw an arm around Buffy's shoulder and said, "Walk with me, talk with me, give me my present, hint, hint." He motioned with his other hand for her to give him what remained still hidden behind her.

"Xander, Xander, Xander. Always 'gimme, gimme, gimme.' You need to learn some manners. Besides, who said I even bought you a gift in the first place? Does it look like I have one? No! You never ever mentioned anything about a gift. How was I supposed to know to get you one—think on my own? Xand, you know very well I can't do that! I get others to do it for me, like Wills."

"Oh, I'm hurt," he cried, grabbing his chest, playing heart-broken. "First, you don't get me a gift. Then, you totally mock me. Does this mean you don't love me?" Xander tried his best attempt at a sad puppy face, and it was all Buffy could do not to laugh—he looked so silly.

She simply grinned and replied, "Okay, so maybe I did get you a little something." She handed him a small, wrapped package with a shiny gold ribbon tied about it, excitement evident in both of their eyes as he took the gift into his own hands. He muttered, "What could it be, what could it be?" to himself a couple times, while he shook the box gently next to his ear.

Xander greedily tore at the paper with a child's spirited enthusiasm, and he yanked off the ribbon, hurrying to find out what was hidden inside the glittering package. What he uncovered was a little cardboard box, nothing fancy, just plain white. Xander carefully lifted the top off and let out an astonished gasp at what he saw within the strikingly simple container. 

There, sitting on a bed of white fluff, an aura of mysticism encircling it, was the glowing golden cross, with its pronounced engraving, shining its pure, ethereal, yellow light out onto Xander's astounded countenance. 

"Oh Buffy, it's fantastic. I'm speechless."

She raised a curious eyebrow in his direction, "Xander Harris, speechless? Why, aren't the two words complete opposites? Anyway, every slayerette needs a cross. It's a must in our line of business, doncha think?"

Xander lifted the sparkling object up and fingered it gently. "'Let this be your guide.' How beautiful." His voice seemed so tender and out-of-character for Xander. "Did you think of this yourself, the engraving, I mean?"

"Well, no, not exactly. There was a list of things they could etch on it. I liked that one the best though. But, but, I did think of the 'From: Buffy To: Xander,' thing myself," she announced proudly, blushing a little.

"Impressive. Anyway, I think it's fantastic. I'll keep it with me always. If I ever get lost, you can find me with this," he beamed.

"Very funny."

"Seriously though, I'll cherish it forever, Buffy. Thank you." He hugged her quickly, trying not to make her feel uncomfortable, which she wasn't at all. In fact, in his arms was the only place she felt completely at ease anymore, and recently she'd found herself yearning to be there more and more frequently, much to her sheer amazement.

"Happy eighteenth, Xand," Buffy whispered into his ear as she pulled reluctantly out of his embrace, taking a single step back. She gave him a playful slap on the back and waved goodbye, thinking, I wish I were Cordelia.

Back in reality, Buffy heard an enormous crack of thunder overhead like the sounds of mountains crumbling under a giant's cumbersome foot. She was back in the clutches of the swirling storm, no longer within the safe (sometimes not so safe) hallways of Sunnydale High School—back where she belonged. Although still a little disoriented from the bizarre flashback, Buffy noticed that she had clasped Xander's cross so tightly that it had left an imprint in the soft flesh of her palm. While she rubbed the skin on her hand with her thumb, Buffy leaned her head back into the storm. Boy, was she ever thirsty. She opened her mouth and drank up the rainwater as if it were chardonnay of the finest caliber. Greedily, the slayer licked every droplet from her lips and sighed at how refreshed she suddenly felt.

Then she felt the strangest urge wash through her. The blonde couldn't place it right then, but she knew this odd feeling. It was familiar, though she knew quite obviously that she had not felt it for some time now. Taking a glance at the gold medallion, Buffy made a startling realization as to what the feeling was—love. _I love Xander…_


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven ****

Chapter Eleven

Unexpectedly, the room became impossibly hot and suddenly unbreathable, as if superheated by the vapors of Hell in all of its fury. 

Angelus wasn't really sure what do next. The revelation he had made about Xander's secret, yet bottomless love for the slayer being essentially the greatest torment his soul could endure, had shattered the vampire's hopes and spoiled all of his fun. There really wasn't much else he could do to torture Xander any more than the boy already felt inside. The only thing the vampire could think of was to force Xander to see the sight ahead of him. He'd heard the child screaming painfully earlier, and so he assumed the slayerette had seen it before. But if he could make Xander look at the thing before him, really look at it, Angelus knew he could truly scare him. And that's what this whole thing was about, not just the fun, albeit it was that, but to make Xander experience horror in its truest form, make him live out his foulest nightmares as though they were real. In short, Angelus wanted to terrify every part of Xander—drive him literally insane.

"Xander, old buddy, old pal, you with me?" Only breathing. "Hey there, open your eyes for a second."

Weakly: "No."

"Come on, boy. I've got something you'll _really_ want to see, unless, that is, you've seen it already."

In a tiny fit of rage, he spat, "Go to hell."

"Come on boy. I've been there and done that, remember?" Angelus stated in a disbelieving tone of voice. "I thought we had already gone through this whole 'returning form Hell' thing. Guess not. Maybe sometime later.

"Anyway, I want you to open your eyes now, and I mean ASAP."

With more conviction this time, Xander refused, "No."

"Xander, don't make me force you because I will, and believe you me, it won't be at'all pleasant."

Xander squeezed his eyes shut even tighter as a sign of defiance and clenched his hands together in an act of prayer behind the pole to which he was attached.

"So be it," the demon mumbled as he sent a hard punch to Xander's stomach, feeling the kid's young muscles constrict under the vampire's fist as his body absorbed the blow as best it could. Xander hacked roughly a few times and spewed blood all over himself, dribbling saliva down his lip in snake-like trails only to drip onto his chin, mixing with the blood previously oozing from his lower lip. "Open your eyes," Angelus demanded tediously.

"Na…Na…never," he managed between strained gasps for air.

Another unmerciful punch, yet Xander still refused. Another one, followed by another, each one more painful than the last, and each one contained more rage. Incredibly, Xander held strong, trying to allay the effects of every blow by thinking of his dear, sweet Buffy. She'd be so proud to see her normally wimpy friend standing up to the enemy like this, denying the tormentor his demands, even if that tormentor were Angel. That thought alone was enough to give Xander the strength to fight this demon to end all other demons.

"So, the valiant knight refuses to give in to the demands of the bad guy, eh? Well aren't we just the courageous one, hmm?" the beast mocked acidly. He paused to prod Xander's injured ribs delicately with feathery fingers, working them between the fragile bones, each individual little touch making Xander wince. "I'd say more along the lines of obstinate fool.

"Well, I know something you don't know. Our beloved slayer is on her way right this very instant, charging ahead with unparalleled speed, with the rest of our zany Scooby Gang friends, just to save you. Ah, the power of love. What wouldn't they do for you, Xand? Where wouldn't they go? They'd thrust themselves blindly into the hands of danger, all to rescue measly little you? It boggles the mind!" Angelus brought his two fingers to his temple and shook his head incredulously. "I always knew you guys were a bunch of loons, but this is beyond my capacity for words!

"You know how I know they're on their way? I have this sort of, well, sixth sense, and it's tellin' me that they're close—real close—to finding out our whereabouts. Know what that means, doncha? It means, I've gotta start gettin' this party ready for our _esteemed_ guests, which, consequently, means I have to finish you." He paused briefly and looked for a reaction. None. "No hard feelings, right? I mean, I promised Buffy that when she got here, you'd be nothing more than a quivering mass on the floor, and, you know how I always like to keep my promises. At this point, well, frankly… you're not a quivering mass just yet, but I can fix that as easy as one, two, three." Angelus snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind any if you didn't live up to your little agreement," he wheezed lightly.

"Ah, but I couldn't do that. A promise _is_ a promise after all, and what kind of guy would I be if I broke that promise?"

"Oh, I could think of a few things you already are without even this talk about keeping promises."

He smirked slightly. "Come on, open your eyes. For me?" he asked sweetly, his voice laced with sugar and, at the same time, arsenic. Angelus stopped when he noticed Xander hadn't opened his eyes yet, and then continued forward, "If not for me, then for Buffy. Let's not disappoint her; she wouldn't like that one bit. Let's go, open 'em up." He gave Xander a few light slaps on the cheeks to wake him up, then proceeded to increase intensity with each new smack. Xander could feel his face growing black and blue as blood vessels broke and wept syrupy blood under his deceptively soft skin.

One particularly strong hit jarred his eyelids open, and his body went slack, while his jaw dropped as he caught a glimpse of the "present" Angelus had for him. Though he'd seen the sight before, Xander was even more revolted than the last time. The first time, he really hadn't paid attention to the sacrilegious display that was spread in front of him, hadn't left his eyes open long enough to see all of the gory details—hadn't wanted to, for what was before him was almost to incredible to believe.

There, directly ahead of him, hanging obscenely on a meat hook was the vomitus, decaying mass that was the once beautiful and talented computer teacher, Miss Calendar. Her head was still bent at an unnatural angle from when Angelus had broken it and her decomposing limbs were stretched out like a body on a crucifix. Her appendages hung loosely from her joints, with their gangrenous, ancient skin flaking off and dripping thickly to the floor. The body itself was enough to make Xander gag on his own blood. But what really repulsed him was the devilish rat from earlier, with its greasy brown coat and beady red eyes that glared at Xander with a look of contempt that mirrored Angelus' own toward the young male slayerette. It hissed viciously and climbed the rotting corpse as it would any tree, sitting triumphantly down on the woman, its fat rump plopping down squarely on the crown of her head, with its wormy tail hanging before her glazed eyes like a stray hair. It seemed to Xander that, although she was dead, Miss Calendar's body had somehow become reanimated, and her pustule-coated hand swiped at the tail to brush it out of her view just as she would have done it, if she were alive. Such were the hallucinations Xander suffered as a result of the exposure to the graphic scene.

A flock of rats was gathered at Miss Calendar's dangling feet, each one staring up at what Xander hypothesized was the chief rat—the rat king—towering above them all on its meaty throne.

Xander couldn't restrain from retching any longer the moment he saw the rat king slip lovingly down her thinning hair and begin to nibble on the crumbling ear of Giles' favorite computer teacher. Maroon colored vomit poured from his mouth and down onto his T-shirt, winding sticky streaks over his chin and around his neck, soaking his shirt collar.

One by one, the great mass of hell-born ilk swarmed over the corpse, licking it ever so intimately with their multitudinous tongues in order to savor the rotten meat's seemingly delicious flavor. Probably all of them thought that this was the greatest meal they'd tasted in an incredibly long time.

Xander's gag reflex went crazy, producing nothing more than stomach acid, which only succeeded in burning the lining of his throat. He wanted nothing more than to turn away and cry, but, unbelievably, found himself gawking in wonderment at the prodigious number of the wicked, hornless little demons. The sight had mesmerized him somehow, captured his attention and piqued his sadistic instincts, refusing to let him look away. Wave after wave of the humongous horde climbed onto the teacher and tore greedily at her deteriorating body, gnawing mostly on her flesh, taking bits and pieces of cheek and nose as their yellowed, beastly teeth sank into her unyielding flesh; yet, mysteriously, Xander still could not glance away. His eyes burned with anger and resentment; however, there was nothing he could do but lie back and watch—his mind had lost control of the situation long ago.

"I hate to break up this lovely scene," Angelus began, pulling Xander out of the trance he'd fallen into, "but I really must be going; I have a party to set up. Take good care of Jenny while I'm away. Oh, and FYI, keep your eye on those rats. As soon as they finish with her, they'll be all over you. I'd save up my strength if I were you, cause you're gonna need all of what you got left to fight off those persistent little suckers. And remember…think lovely thoughts." Careful not to disturb the feeding frenzy that neighbored the door, Angelus eased out of the room with a wanton grin painted like a smile on a circus clown on his face and left the slayerette alone with the decomposing body and the rats and his thoughts.

Xander really had no desire to be left in the dark at that moment; therefore, he didn't close his eyes to sleep, only shifted his gaze to focus on the whirling fan and become lost in the incessant, ceaseless circular motions of its blades as they hacked the invisible air to shreds. The fan was a sign of the never-ending circle of human existence: it keeps going and going, chopping away at the smaller obstacles. But when something too large for it to handle comes along, it stops, gnawing at the problem; however, in the end, it can not do anything to rid itself of the obstacle, so eventually it gives out, its light extinguished.

__

Oh Lord, save me because I don't think anyone else can.

@~~`~~~

__

Whoa, wait, where'd that come from? Me love Xander? No, that's Angel. I'm just really anxious to see him to see him, and I'm really stressed out. He's my friend and I don't want to lose him that's all, which's as far as it goes.

She paused her thinking to glance down at the sparkling cross and turned it over in her hand, then resumed mulling over the strange old feelings._ Right, that's all it is, deep concern._ Buffy wasn't truly convinced herself, but at the moment, she didn't think she could handle loving someone new. What if she lost him like she had Angel? What if Angel were the one to kill Xander? Buffy didn't believe she could take that. She couldn't lose another love, not now.

__

Analyze later, Buffy. You've got a friend to save! The slayer took her own advice and raced off to the Rosenberg household as fast as her "four legs" could carry her, kicking up the freshly fallen raindrops and flinging them back into the air, crying the whole time for all of the gang to return to its meeting spot instantly. She prayed desperately that her words hadn't been swallowed up by the ravenous storm, and luckily, as it turned out, they hadn't been. 

The whole group was assembled on Willow's porch steps, each member engaging his or her own nervous habits: Giles was pushing up his glasses repeatedly; Willow was picking at a nail; Cordelia was continuously combing her hair with her fingers; Faith was tapping her foot incessantly on the wooden floor; and Oz was pacing back and forth rapidly. They all stopped the very second Buffy climbed the stairs and stood tensely amongst the crowd of wide-eyed gatherers. The silence was strange, but no one wanted to get his or her hopes up, so no one asked anything, just waited for the slayer to say something, anything. Finally, Faith couldn't take it anymore, and she just turned and blurted, "What is it, B? What'd you find out there?"

Before Buffy could even reply, Oz cried, "We're sorry, Buffy, but none of us could find anything. Believe me, we searched long and hard—so hard that all of us feel as though our heads are gonna fall right off our necks—but there wasn't anything to be found. Nevertheless, I promise you, I won't give up until I find something. I—"

"Oz, Oz! Relax, I've got _good_news. I found something." And Buffy paused for the excited gasps from her friends to die down before she continued. "It's like an omen, or some other kind of supernatural thing like that. Xander left it here for us to find; I just know it. It's gonna lead us right to him. Soon enough we'll have our friend back!"

"Oh, Buffy!" exclaimed Willow. "That's good! I mean really good as… as in great! Actually, I don't mean that either cause it's even better than great, it's, it's…"

"Fantastic?" Oz suggested casually.

"Yeah, fantastic in an incredibly terrific way."

"I know, Will. I sorta figured that out the moment I found it."

"Well, yeah. So, so what is it?" the witch asked eagerly.

"Remember his last birthday, when I bought him that gold cross with the engraving? Well, I found it lying on the ground, pointing up the street."

"But, Buffy," Giles questioned, "how do you know Xander planted that cross for you to find? I mean, when would he have time during the kidnapping to leave it? Besides, how would he have even known where he was being taken?"

"Geez, Giles, why do you _always_ have to be Mr. Negativity?"

"I'm just being realistic. This situation certainly calls for realism, don't you think?"

"Oh, I see, you're all for demons and giant preying mantises on any other day of the week, but if something like a simple little cross is found lying on the street, it automatically means nothing because it doesn't have a magic incantation or an super old, stupid inscription on it in some dead, ancient redneck language."

"That's not true. At least it gives us the location of the attack. We now know where to center our search for clues, and maybe we'll find something concrete, something that won't lead us further into the wild goose chase we're now on."

The slayer scowled deeply at her watcher. "Giles, don't you ever experience those moments where you just know something to be true? Don't you ever encounter a weird tingling in your stomach that tells you something, and you know those feelings to be right? You know, when something inside's wiggin' you out completely—that kinda feeling? Well, that's what everything inside me is saying –actually screaming. And I know it's real, as real as those demons and giant preying mantises, and I can't deny it. 

"Also, the inscription, it's practically giving me precise directions. Well, precise in an extremely vague sorta way, but still. You know what it reads? It reads: 'Let this be your guide. From: Buffy To: Xander.' Coincidence? I've had too much experience in my line of work to believe in those, and so have you. Now, I say we follow up on this lead. The cross _was_ pointing to him. Xander wants us to come find him. It's time to bring him home."

Giles sighed, "All right, Buffy. Let's just say, for the sake of argument, that this cross_ is_ pointing to Mr. Harris, how does that help us any? There are billions of places in Sunnydale alone for a bloodthirsty vampire seeking revenge to hide a boy. Why, he could be in San Francisco, for all we know! This clue is so nebulous, I don't see how we can benefit anything from it."

"No, Angelus wouldn't leave Sunnydale's limits. He has his sights set on the great nasty vampire vs. street-tough slayer showdown. If he leaves, he knows he'll probably never get it. You see?" Rupert nodded reluctantly, still not accepting her theory, but giving in to her finally; she was the slayer after all. "Good. Willow, what's at the end of your street?"

Willow cast a fast glance down the roadway, straining to see through the veils of fog that clouded not only the streets, but her memory, as well. The mat of ethereal gray sifted through the droplets of rain, its tiny molecules of water barely visible to the naked eye "It's basically all apartment complexes and abandoned buildings; it's a pretty depressed area of town. My mom always told me that's where all the missing shopping carts from K-Mart end up."

Buffy disregarded the red head's last comment and said, "Abandoned buildings, eh? Perfect place for a rogue vampire to stash away a kid. Let's go."

They all reentered the whipping rain and howling wind that tugged roughly on their umbrellas and snapped their coattails against their legs, their fading silhouettes becoming one with the storm as they made their way to their friend and a still unsure destiny.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve  ****

Chapter Twelve 

Xander was sweating profusely in the steamy atmosphere of the once freezing room. He strained to get closer to the fan, to feel the cool, swirling air whirling around him and blowing the chest-tightening stench of decomposing flesh behind him. Oh, how he longed to breath the fresh scent of the outdoors and view the great golden orb of light above him—otherwise known as the sun—instead of the dimly glowing GE light bulb swinging overhead by its frayed, black electric cord.

A fit of rough coughing passed through Xander, and he suddenly gagged on the terrible reek that filled the air. He moaned at the pain, yet also at the silence, the unbearable, unimaginable, incomprehensible, perfect silence. Had a pin dropped three blocks up the street, on the fourth floor of a tenement filled to the brim with chattering Mexicans, Japanese and Russians, he was sure he would still be able to hear it in the blanket of quiet.

It was unearthly silent in the room. If he didn't concentrate on the fan, then he couldn't even hear it; plus, all of the rats had scurried off to their homes—probably to digest the bits of flesh they'd torn from their prize on the hook—so there was practically no noise. Unexpectedly, there was a crash outside of the room, and Xander expected to see fractions of the ceiling and walls start falling, the floor shook with such might. Was it an earthquake? Oh, wouldn't that just be the cherry on the icing on his cake for the day! An earthquake, now? Beautiful! Only in the following moments when he saw nothing move, crack or break, did Xander realize it was merely the storm outside trying to get into the enclosure with him.

A couple of times throughout the duration of Angelus' and his "session", he had heard a low rumbling, like that of Indian war drums, outside the building, but thought nothing of it, for he'd never really had the time to do so. Xander supposed the violent weather had risen pretty suddenly, so he prayed that his clue hadn't been washed away or moved.

To keep from going completely insane, Xander hummed to himself any song that came to mind, usually something slow and romantic. This produced hallucinations. Xander would pretend he was somewhere else with his friends, having fun, never knowing the horror he'd seen within the room and felt within the span of the last half-day. Yes, go somewhere else… 

Everything was just dandy that night at the Bronze. He imagined that he was dancing in the Bronze with Buffy, holding her close and absorbing the fabulous feeling being near her produced. They swayed rhythmically to the gentle music of Oz and his band, "The Dingoes Ate Baby", because they were the band evidently playing on the stage that night. 

Xander wasn't too sure because he was almost completely lost in his moment with Buffy, but he thought he saw Willow staring up at Oz dreamily like any loyal girlfriend dating a musician would. He also saw Faith dancing with Scott Hope and Cordelia gabbing with all of her friends at the Bronze's tiny bar. Luckily, Giles was there to observe all of them for Xander, attempting to do it surreptitiously, but failing, for they all noticed his overt staring. He gazed at them with a look in his eyes like a father would possess: protective, yet still trying to refrain from interfering too much. And that's exactly how they all saw Rupert Giles, as a father. He looked out for them and cared about them with a fatherly love. He worried when they were gone too long, yet he trusted them and all their decisions that they made. 

Xander pulled Buffy closer, trying to do it as casually as possible, but failing miserably because of his lack of experience with the whole romance deal. Buffy smiled at his cheesy attempt at flirtation all the while moving nearer on her own. She placed her head on Xander's welcoming shoulder and snuggled up against it, pressing her cheek into it and sighing lightly—so lightly that it was inaudible above the raucous; however, Xander could feel the breath escape her. Truly this was a dream, for in real life Buffy would never react this way to his touch. 

__

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord.

I've been waiting for this moment all of my life, oh Lord.

Can you feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord?

Oh Lord.

Just when all seemed right with Xander's world—everything was normal to the acceptable degree in Sunnydale—the strangest music began to blare from the speakers embedded around the circumference of the nightclub. It seemed familiar to Xander, almost like something out of a horror film he'd seen recently, not that that was a good thing. Then the slayerette noticed the peculiar twang of Phil Collins. The moment he discovered who sang it, Xander knew instantly what the song was: "In the Air Tonight." When Xander lifted his head from resting against Buffy's to look at Oz and his band, he noticed that the music wasn't coming from them, but actually just wafting through the air on a unfelt breeze. Xander searched the hazy scene with his scrutinizing eyes and discovered that no one other than himself and the band had noticed the out-of-place music. 

The eerie sounds of the guitar and keyboard continued to echo off of the walls and back into their ears like a distant cry in the Alps while the whole scene moved on oblivious.

Well, if you told me you were drowning,

I would not lend a hand.

I've seen your face before my friend,

But I don't know if you know who I am.

Buffy raised her head, curious of the odd song with its dark lyrics; this wasn't the type of music the Bronze normally played for a slow dance. A few other interested, handsome countenances glanced up, but then immediately resumed dancing, eager to return to their equally attractive partners.

__

Well, I was there and I saw what you did,

I saw it with my own two eyes.

So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been,

It's all been a pack of lies.

And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord.

I've been waiting for this moment all of my life, oh Lord.

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord.

And I've been waiting for this moment all of my life, oh Lord.

Oh Lord.

The throng of people disseminated thickly about the dance club slowly stopped what they were doing and began to seek out the source of the song, as it grew steadily darker and more devilish.

Buffy and Xander had since then ceased dancing and looked nervously about with the others, their eyes darting curiously around the room. The mysterious melody didn't really seem to fit the light, carefree atmosphere of the Bronze, and that made the two extremely uneasy, for the scene was beginning to appear more and more like some of the things with which they normally dealt, with the vampires and the hellbeasts and the evil mojo, etc.

That's when Xander realized he was imagining the whole Bronze ordeal, however, not the song. After a few blinks of his dry, scratchy eyes, Xander awoke from the picture show playing within his head. When he did, he heard the distant voice of Phil Collins floating through the atmosphere, on top of the odor of death, in the stuffy metal prison cell—that was all he heard.

__

Well, I remember…

I remember the worry; how could I ever forget?

It was the first time of the last time

We ever met…

But I, I know the reason why you keep your silence up,

No, you don't fool me.

Because the hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows

So stranger to you and me.

The thundering sound of drums rebounded in the air and played around the room, the clattering raucous of an explosion of metal and glass filling every soundless corner with a earth-shattering, ear-piercing type of noise.

Who was listening to Phil Collins? Was a radio being used? It sounded so close Xander thought he could actually reach out and touch the notes, feel their smooth, glossy bodies trembling under his palm. To Xander that signified someone was near enough to perhaps hear his screams of fear and pleas for clemency. "Help!" he bleated though it stung his sore throat to no end. "Please! Help me!" The only answer he received was:

__

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord.

I've been waiting for this moment all a my life, oh Lord.

I've been waiting for this moment all a my life.

All my life! All my life!

Angelus! He must have been the one listening to the song! _Is he taunting me? What if Buffy's here and that's who he's taunting?_ He fought his restraints as best he could, yelling, "Buffy! Buffy!" _I have to warn Buffy!_ _Please God, she has to hear me!_ Xander lifted his head and ululated into the air, "Buffy…"

@~~`~~~

Out in the banal, barren hall, Angelus listened disinterestedly to Xander's desperate warning sirens for the non-existent Buffy. The faint moans and wails of anger and frustration were frankly beginning to bore the vampire. And although they tired him, a little smirk had formed on his previously sour face, for what Xander didn't know was that Angelus had been listening to the radio—scanning for some music to occupy his free time until Buffy's arrival—when he'd come across the bizarre song. Intrigued from the first few notes, he listened further and found that the words strangely fit the situation at hand. How true it was that Angelus had been waiting for this confrontation for practically all his vampiric existence, and how odd it was that he felt it coming in the air that day.

He found himself entranced—like under the love spells he himself usually cast—as he became more and more engrossed in the emotion-filled lyrics of the melody. The singer, whom he did not know off by heart, sang with a deep passion that filled the snaking labyrinth of hallways in the factory with an anticipation that they'd never experienced before in all their sordid history and never would again. The rich music was like fine Merlot mixed with a few drops of the sweet blood of youth in that Angelus drank it up as greedily as he could.

__

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord.

And I've been waiting for this moment all my life!

All malife!  
All malife!

On and on it continued, feeding Angelus' desire for the fight and affecting him like he thought nothing short of delivering the coup de grâcé to Buffy could. The strains of heated drumming and keyboard playing permeated his brain and disillusioned him into thinking that he had already killed the slayer. And, oh, what a glorious killing it had been: her eyes rolling back into her head, her body shriveling as it lost its life blood, her last breath escaping her full, purple lips. _Oh_, he thought, _if it were only true, if it were only true._

Eventually the song ended with a splash of colorful drumming intermixed with a bit of electric guitar—a perfect conclusion to a perfect song. Angelus proceeded to listen to the next few songs, not really enjoying any of them—he hadn't really been paying much attention anyhow—so he turned the stereo off and slumped down along the wall in silence, straining to hear the last pounding notes of the music still reverberating in the hall. The powerful song had branded its mark on the vampire, however, and Angelus, being the conceited vampire that he was, became convinced that it had been written for the sole purpose of having him hear it.

The hallways resumed their normal silence as the hubbub caused by "In the Air Tonight" faded with Xander's remaining shouts, but somehow they retained the underlying meaning of the lyrics within their stony cores.

Leaning against the baseboard, Angelus pondered over how such a cursory spattering of music could alter him so much on so many different levels, yet it most definitely had. It had pumped him full of dark energy, the black electricity of evil coursing through his veins, filling his dead, useless heart with an even blacker blood, and invigorated him to the point where Angelus believed nothing short of death itself could defeat him. Angelus had never felt so exhilarated, exuberant, excited, and almost every other word that started with ex. With this new energy, he felt as though he could take on the whole world at once, and it would never stand a chance against the incomparable Angelus. By sunrise the next day, the Earth could be under his control! He could feast whenever and on whomever he wanted! But, of course, that would have to wait until _after_ Buffy's demise. 

Running toward the doorway of Xander's room, Angelus began to laugh hysterically, not for any real reason, but just because he felt like it. The fact that he hadn't experienced a real laugh in ages made him cackle all the louder, his deep belly laugh vibrating off of the walls.

The demon threw open the door in one swift movement and entered as fluidly as a bat out of Hell, adding a special little twirl as he spun into the now silent room. Angelus stalked over to the computer teacher's body and began to swing it around, dancing with it, pirouetting the corpse under his finger, then slipping his arm around it and dipping it. It was quite apparent that the whole scene was making Xander sick by the green appearance of his face and the umbrella shape of his mouth, which stood open in a look of disgust and horror.

Angelus literally skipped over to Xander's side and patted him gently on the shoulder to wake him up to the gross reality inside the room. The boy used what little energy he had left to shrug the contaminated thing vehemently away and spit at the monster's feet.

"Fine, be that way," Angelus said, obviously unaffected by Xander's rude movements. He began to hum the Collins song, which he now considered his theme, and waltz lightly about the concrete floors with nothing but the air and an invisible counterpart. His booming baritone voice grew fervent and passionate as he started to sing, "I can feel it coming in the air tonight." Angelus paused to spin wildly in a circle then resumed chanting, "I've been waiting for this moment all my life!" conveniently leaving out the "Oh, Lord" part.

Then, the black serpent kneeled down to Xander's exposed ear and whispered, "Can _you_ feel it coming in the air tonight?" Xander swore he felt a snake-like, forked tongue dart briefly in his ear, intentionally creating an itch that he could not scratch.

Angelus jumped to his feet, his hands never touching the ground, and let out an excited shriek as he announced, "That song was so very..." Then Angelus turned to catch his victim's far-away gaze, his ghastly disfigured profile outlined by the single light of a bulb dangling precariously over head, then finished, "…me."

Using his fingers as a method for keeping count, Angelus recited all the reasons why the song was made for him. Xander just observed him silently, not really paying any attention, merely watching the monster's blood colored lips work up and down in a mechanical sort of way, the rest of Angelus' motions remaining in sync with the mouth. Mostly, the slayerette was reacting to the imaginary scene that had just played out in his head in lieu of listening to the insane jabber Angelus spouted. Instead of jumping in where he left off, Xander "rewound" his dream to the moment before the queer music had been cued, to the point where he and Buffy were just beginning their slow dance. While Angelus was prancing and whirling crazily around, Xander was holding Buffy close to him, the way he had always wanted to hold her: tight enough against his chest so that he might feel her every breath, with his fleshy cheek pressing gently against her head.

"Hey, Harris!" Angelus barked as he grabbed Xander by the shoulder roughly and shook him into consciousness. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Waiting for fight. Have been all your life. Big freaking deal! You haven't even known Buffy that long, so frankly I don't see how you could have been waiting all that time. And you're not even _that_ old in vampire years. What, you're a little over 200? A baby, really, that's all you are. Heaven knows you whine like one. But go ahead, believe what you want to. Keep on deluding yourself, ya crazy bastard. Who I am ta stop you?" muttered an unconcerned Xander.

"Watch it, kid, or I'll take off your head. We'll just see who the baby is when I kill you, so don't smart-mouth me.

"Now, I'll call for you in a little bit, and when I do, you'd better be prepared for another one of our fun-slash-pain-filled sessions." Xander nodded, seemingly unshaken by the vampire's threats, and returned to his daydream.

Footsteps as heavy as iron rang throughout the air as Angelus crossed to the door and exited, leaving an unconcerned Xander lying in the middle of the floor.

@~~`~~~

Joyce Summers arrived at her home a little earlier than she'd originally expected: 3:08 instead of 4 o'clock. She pulled effortlessly into her smoothly paved driveway and walked up to her front door—as she frequently did—running as quickly as she could to get out of the driving rain. She ducked under the overhang and wiped her face dry of all the water, clearing her vision. Joyce placed her hand on the doorknob and fussed with her keys, jamming it into the lock. To her surprise, yet also dismay, she found it already unlocked. Joyce twisted the knob and the door swung inward ever so slowly, barely creaking on its unoiled joints.

Tentatively, Joyce placed one foot on the foyer and entered timorously, muscles tensed and ready to turn and run should she encounter any threat. "Buffy?" her mother called softly, the richness of her voice reaching every corner in the empty hallway. The only sounds to answer her were of the house settling and the steady whir of their Whirlpool refrigerator.

When no one answered, she stepped into the living room, scanning from left to right rapidly with her eyes, and when she saw no one lurking in the shadows, she headed for the kitchen. Finding nobody there either, Joyce was about to leave to search the rest of the place when a big white slip of paper on the refrigerator caught her eye. She pulled the magnet off and brought up to her face what she discovered to be a note. It was from Buffy, and it explained why the front door had been left unlocked; she had been in a hurry to get weapons.

Joyce still wasn't sure whether to trust Buffy or not, for she'd run away before and she didn't see why her daughter wouldn't do it again, although it did feel rather wrong not to trust her own child. Granted, Joyce hadn't gone easy on her after the first go-round because she'd tried to impose the idea that running away didn't solve problems, but only increased their magnitude tenfold; however, she held to the belief that Buffy would flee if things got bad again. And Joyce was afraid.

Nevertheless, she had to get over this fear and obtain an indomitable attitude much the same as that of her daughter's because Buffy was the slayer, and it was her daughter's destiny whether she had her mother's approval or not. Anyway, who was she when it came to the subject of destiny other than the mother of a very good slayer? Buffy would constantly be leaving to save the world and to save others, so Joyce had to trust her, and besides, Buffy was all she had. Trust between a mother and daughter was extremely important, especially if there were no father in the household. 

Aside from the fact that she had a daughter who was a slayer, Joyce Summers lead a pretty regular life. She worked, she cooked, she cleaned, she mothered. Now it was time to start fulfilling some of those motherly duties. She decided she would start a delectable chicken dinner with all the fixings. Buffy said in her note she'd be home for dinner, and Joyce decided, this time, to believe her. _Maybe she'll invite Xander to come over with her, providing he feels up to it,_ Joyce pondered hopefully_. He's just what my daughter needs right now: a good, steady friend._


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen ****

Chapter Thirteen

The oddly mixed group marched to the end of the road and found it connected perpendicularly with the other street Willow had mentioned.

Looking up and down the flattened earth, Faith discovered Willow to be right about this section of the Hellmouth; it appeared economically depressed and uncommonly dirty—where the indigent lived out their meager lives in squalor, quite unlike the rest of Sunnydale. 

Empty, silent, crumbling factories lined the sides of the road and were intermixed with drab, uni-colored apartment complexes, where cracks in the windows were duct taped up tight and iron bars decorated the front door, giving the buildings a penitentiary type of look. Few people were outside, even for a strong storm like this one. No cars drove through the liter-lined streets and none were parked along the curb. All of the factories were gray from years of running and from more years of just gathering dirt and pollution; all that is, except one.

It stood towering like Mount Everest betwixt the tiny two- and four-story buildings neighboring it. Its blunt, overt face gleamed white like a pearl fresh out of an oyster, and its spotless, scorn-filled glass eyes stared contemptuously at the group. The building, Anderson's Meats, was definitely abandoned, for its doors were nailed shut and all of its lower windows were boarded up with thick hunks of solid oak. The walkway out front was immaculate—the only place in the area that was—and it seemed to carry a halo of cleanliness all about it.

"Factory seems a little outta place, wouldn't ya say?" suggested Faith as she kicked off the conversation. They all nodded in unison. 

Once more, Buffy seized the silence brought on by the menace before them and took charge of the situation by beginning to hand out orders as fast as she could speak them. "Let's split up since we don't know for sure whether this's the place or not."

Willow glared warily at the ruined factory and announced, "They're in there. We know it; we can feel it."

Oz looked at his redheaded girlfriend in shock, for he had never doubted Willow's brilliance and erudite nature, nor her ability to give out sage advice. She was by far the most intelligent woman he had ever met, and that was one of the million reasons why he loved her. But it was just that she seemed so wise, so omniscient, at that moment, that it chilled the very marrow of his bones, sent a cold shiver down his spine. Willow had practically read his mind, all of their minds, in fact. Oz felt the evil presence and had the distinct feeling that Angelus was in there with Xander—torturing him even as they spoke—and so far as he could tell, so did everyone else there. Just by the look on her face, he judged that even Buffy knew that Xander and Angelus were inside the marvelously constructed building. However, Oz figured Buffy knew what was best for the situation, and he was prepared to follow her orders readily should she request anything at all of him, even if that included splitting up.

"Now, Willow, we don't know that for sure. I, I second Buffy's motion for, um, splitting up. It might get the task done more expediently if we do it this way," Giles interrupted. "We'll have Xander back in no time t'all."

Buffy clapped her hands together quickly. "Right! We'll break off into three groups of two each: Oz with Willow at Turner's Juice Factory; Giles with Cordy at Sunnydale Fabrics; and Faith, you're with me, here at Anderson's.

"Now, I know we all feel Xander's here, but maybe, maybe this place is just a diversion, you know, to get us away from the real place that bastard's got Xand. And if he's not here, I certainly don't wanna take the chance of wasting anymore time to find him than we have to. This _is_ the quickest way to Xander; you know that, Willow."

"NO! It's not! He's here, right here, and you know it, too, otherwise, you wouldn't have chosen Anderson Meats for yourself. Why not let Oz and I go in if you're so damned confident that he's not in there, hmm?" Willow snapped acidly.

"Willow…" Oz soothed as he placed a loving hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away bitterly, as if it were so foul as to be Angelus' taloned hand itself.

Buffy paused briefly, knowing that Willow was right—he was in there—but she didn't want her to know that she thought that, too. "Will, I, I… Please, I beg you, just go to the juice factory? There's still a slight chance that he's there and not here. And even if Xander is here, don't you think Faith and I would be the best to handle the job of rescuing him?"

"I think you'd have a better chance if all of us were here, in case you need back up," she insisted further. But, eventually, Willow resigned, and Oz led her down the blackened pathway into the oblivion of the hungry beast that was the pure wrath of Mother Nature herself.

The slayer made a final call to the couples to keep their weapons handy at all times, adding, "And remember, even if you find Xander, don't drop your weapons. You're no use to him if you're dead!" The sullen pairs trudged on through the storm, all wanting to find Xander, not Angelus; all, except Buffy and Faith.

Buffy prayed she would find Xander. She wanted to be the first person Xander saw and the very first one to see Xander. She wanted to be the very first to hold him, the very first to inform him that everything was going to be fine. 

And as for Faith, Buffy's night to her day, she wanted desperately to be the one who stabbed Angelus in the heart with her unyielding stake that she'd secretly smuggled along with her. She wanted to feel the dust that he'd become explode upon her face in a combination of fury and evil and joy. Faith had never met him, but she didn't care; she yearned to kill him. To Faith, a vampire was a vampire; there was no such thing as an in-between vampire. They were merely cattle for the slayers, meant only to be exterminated. Even Buffy Summers couldn't deny this now. Faith doubted that Angel had ever been truly good; she believed that there had always been a bit of the real Angelus in him. But, of course, she hadn't known him then, and still, she didn't want to. "Ready, B?"

"Ready, F." They turned to each other and nodded together, starting up the spotless walkway to the locked and boarded up door. "This way's too noisy," observed Faith.

"Let's try for those windows up there," Buffy suggested, motioning to a row of windows higher up that hadn't been boarded shut. Faith questioned Buffy's capabilities to get up there with her crutches, but Buffy insisted that she wasn't going to let them limit her; she was going to rescue her friend with or without the crutches. Once a slayer has made up her mind, there is no turning back, no way to get her to change it. Faith knew this fact all too well.

The blonde slayer looked next door and spotted an old, rusty fire escape that lead up the side of a little brown sandstone tenement to its roof. Because the buildings were so close, Buffy supposed they could jump from one roof to the other and weasel their way in from there. Of course, with her bum ankle it was going to be a stretch, but Buffy calculated that with a correct running start she could make it easily (although landing would be a problem).

The pair of slayers raced to the ladder and yanked it down harshly, the screech of old age echoing almost soundlessly in the storm. Hurrying up the disintegrating iron ladder, the girls watched out of the corners of their eyes as flakes of oxidized metal drifted lazily to the ground, in no real rush, much unlike the them. Rung after rung they climbed, faster and faster with every step, racing across the grated metal platforms beneath each window and immediately moving on to the next set of rungs. Lights inside a few windows indicated to Buffy and Faith that the nasty apartments were actually occupied, a revelation that startled Buffy most of all. To think that people would seriously live in these types of crumbling dwellings in a dying neighborhood was a hard thought for Buffy to manage, coming from a more plush lifestyle; although Faith, understanding their situations perfectly for having been there herself, took the discovery as less of a shock.

When they reached the rooftop, all thoughts of the people inside the complex faded—now there was only Anderson Meats and the slayers. They gracefully hopped onto Anderson Meats' roof without problems and walked lightly so as muffle any footsteps that'd alert Angelus inside to their presence, if he didn't already detect it.

"There," mouthed the blonde, pointing to the ledge. They crept cautiously to the edge and peered over it, anticipating anything, but finding only a row of cracked open windows.

"What luck!" exclaimed Faith in a severely hushed voice.

"Maybe not luck at all, maybe a trap."

"Are you always such a cynic?" the dark-haired woman questioned, not expecting an answer and not getting one. Still, she heeded her friend's warning, and her eyes narrowed at the darkness pouring out of the factory. "Let's look inside, B."

Though the whole inside of the factory appeared upside-down from their vantage point, they had no problem seeing that no one was on the top floor of the building.

Faith went first through the open window, easing through gently for she wasn't sure if it would squeak on its ancient hinges, which, thankfully, it didn't. Buffy immediately followed, and the two quickly moved into their defensive stances: Buffy holding Mr. Pointy, and Faith with her foreboding crossbow sticking out like an extra appendage in front of her. "Let's start searching. You take that end, I'll take this one," the blonde commanded sternly.

"Gotcha, B." With that, the two parted, each one wishing the other luck. _We're gonna need it, _Faith thought miserably.

@~~`~~~

Sunnydale Fabrics. Just another rundown, dilapidated outlet store/factory in the endless line of abandoned buildings along the roadside in the depressed part of town. Its skeletal face was enough to chill anyone's bone marrow, especially when a light glowed inside, turning the empty skull into a devilish jack-o-lantern straight out of the maws of Hell. When it was framed by billowing black clouds—such as it was now—it added the effect of Einstein-like hair, making the face that of a deranged geriatric, eyes of fire and fury, mouth toothless and crooked with age. 

Giles pounced at any and all sounds he heard in the factory, staying consistently on guard. He desperately wished Buffy hadn't assigned him to this place; it was filled with horrible mannequins, and some looked so realistic the watcher imagined they were the twisted, bloodless bodies that were left over after Angelus had eaten a meal. Their hideous physiognomies watched him and Cordelia surreptitiously, or at least that's what they seemed to do. At times, Giles swore he could hear their plastic limbs squeak on their pins as they moved when his and Cordy's backs were turned away from them.

That was another thing Giles hated about this mission: he was paired with Cordelia Chase. It wasn't that he didn't like Cordelia; there were just certain aspects about her that grated roughly on his nerves. For instance, her innate ability to find something wrong with anything anyone wore, or the way everything dealing with the occult was either "Gross!" or "Ewww!"-worthy was enough to make him go literally crazy. And from the looks of it, there was no escaping these qualities today. "Did you see Buffy's little ensemble today? That shirt totally does not even go with her pants, and those clips in her hair! They'd look fantastic on me, but Buffy? No way. Even a blind, deaf man with no legs or arms or fashion sense would agree with me. Now, maybe if she had—"

"Cordelia, please! We've been sent on a mission, remember? Now, may we please get back to the task at hand: finding Xander? Oh yes, and do keep your voice down; these walls might very well have ears," Giles urged through clenched teeth.

"Could you imagine how gross it would be to clean a pair of ears that big? Ewww…" Giles cringed noticeably at the word.

"As of now, Cordelia, we are both to refrain from speaking any further unless it is vital. Are we clear about this?"

"Yeah, geez. Tweed's a little too tight today, isn't it?" His brow furrowed and his glasses slipped down his nose. "Sorry," she quickly apologized as Giles continued his search.

Finding only piles and piles of plastic mannequins, the odd couple decided it would be best to leave and check next door at Discount Ted's. As they eased out the doors, Giles looked back at the diabolic figures and cast a very sorrowful glance upon them—like looking at a room crammed full with corpses. The plant seemed to own a doleful air, and that, on top of the sea emotionless faces that undulated beneath his watchful eyes, had the effect of almost getting Giles to cry.

He didn't know why, but he just had the strongest urge to weep like a newborn baby. It was a peculiar sensation that the old British watcher wasn't used to experiencing, and frankly, he found it downright unusual. For a watcher, guardian of the Vampire Slayer, it wasn't weird for him to experience strange, unknown things because he encountered them all the time in his line of work. But this feeling frightened Giles in a way practically nothing else could; he felt something inherently evil lurking within there.

When Cordelia noticed that Giles wasn't following her, she turned to find him staring back into Sunnydale Fabrics with an inquisitive look on his aged face. "What is it?"

He brought a single finger to his lips to signal her silent for a moment. "Do you feel it?" he questioned cryptically.

"What?" asked Sunnydale High's most notorious fashion critic.

"The presence."

Cordelia leaned closer to the decaying building, then announced that she did. "Something's wrong here, Giles, very wrong."

At Giles' request, the two searched the place a second time only to once again come up empty-handed. "There's nothing here except a bunch of naked plastic people and a truckload of monstrously out-of-fashion clothes."

Giles begged to differ, but he knew they still had yet to find Xander, and with time running out, he gave up the investigation in favor of moving on to the next building with the fashion queen. He resolved to return to Sunnydale Fabrics in hopes of uncovering the problem once this whole ordeal was over.

Strangely enough, the place beckoned to him for his return. It took all of the watcher's strength to resist the simple urge to just run right back inside and ignore the siren's call of the dilapidated premises. _What is in that place?_

@~~`~~~

Oz watched his frazzled girlfriend search the juice factory furiously; to put it correctly, she was a woman possessed. Willow tossed aside empty grape drink boxes and flipped huge wooden crates over like they were nothing more than piles of shoddily glued-together toothpicks. All he could think as he watched her was how he wished he could read minds because he was intensely curious as to what she was thinking. Instead, he was content to watch her furtively while he worked in his quest. Willow's hair tossed about her head soundlessly, stirring the moldy air around her and creating tiny whirlpools in it. Her eyes burned with a fury all but unknown to them; they were used to the soft, gentle looks of Willow Rosenberg, not this crazed person tromping ridiculously loud about the factory. Still, the wholesome goodness Oz had fallen in love with was present underneath this ugly mask she wore.

They both knew well that Xander wasn't in the place, but they searched like mad anyway. Willow had explained her gut feeling earlier and Oz had felt it, too, but he also knew for sure that no human was in the factory, for the full moon was only a few short days away.

Being a victim of lycanthropy, Oz certainly knew what it was like to be an outsider; hell, he became a werewolf: half-human, half beast. However, it wasn't all that bad. One boon was that a few days before the moon became full, Oz's senses of hearing, smell and sight increased tenfold, and he was able to hear sounds and smell smells no one else could. For instance, if someone had been in that deathly quiet juice plant, Oz would have heard even the softest footstep or the slightest breath. But there was nothing more to be heard other than Willow's racing heartbeat and his own quickened breath, along with the movements of the mobs of rats within the walls.

Oz lifted a box of grape drink and glanced at the expiration date: May 17, 1982! "Hey, Will, look!" 

"What!" she exclaimed, slamming her shin hard into a crate as she dashed to his side. "Did you find a clue?"

"Not exactly… This is the same stuff they sell us in school. And check out the expiration date. May of '82! Can you believe it?"

"I believe you're wasting time on the stupid thing—"

"I dare you to drink it."

The slender red head glared viciously at the boy as she snarled, "You're such a little child, Oz. I'm not going to drink it!" She snatched the carton from his hand, quick as lightning. "Get back to work!"

Who was this person? Oz certainly didn't know her.

"Sorry, Will, I just thought this situation could use a little levity."

"Well, you thought wrong!" she snapped. "There's nothing funny about Xander being kidnapped and tortured until death, now is there?" Oz shook his head. "Move it!"

He apologized, but she replied, "Just work." Immediately Willow regretted being so rough with Oz. After all, he was her boyfriend and she cared about him deeply; she hadn't meant to be quite that rude and callous; in fact, she didn't know she could be. She'd never acted like that before, and it wasn't fair for her to dump all her anger and frustrations out on the boy. "Look, don't apologize. I should be the one doing that. I really shouldn't have been so mean."

Her hurt and apologetic eyes were more than enough needed for his forgiveness. "I understand, honey. Your best friend is MIA, and you're scared for him and for yourself."

Willow avoided his prying eyes as she grumbled, "It's not that…"

"What do you mean?" asked Oz, concerned.

She decided she'd better tell him why she was acting like this. "A couple of night's ago, on the day of the Homecoming dance, Xander came over to help me choose an outfit to wear—you know—just like we always do. When I finally came out in the dress I was going to wear, some, uh, wires in our heads criss-crossed and loop-de-looped, and we got confused by it all—the magic of the night and all—and well, we, um, sorta…" A long pause. "Kissed." Her voice rose and fell during her extemporaneous confession, as if she were on a roller coaster with zillions of pitfalls and hills.

Oz remained still, barely able to refrain from collapsing in a messy heap of hair dye and nail polish on the floor. Xander and _his_ Willow had… kissed? The startling realization rocked his small world: a world that usually consisted of just Willow and himself. And now there was this alien person in it, abruptly turning Oz into a xenophobic for life. "Do, do you love him?" he managed to ask in a severely tremulous voice laced with pain and wrath.

The air was incredibly heavy and so dry that when the wind whistled the air sounded like crumpling paper. For minutes there was no noise as Willow thought out her answer. The wait was an eternity for both of them. Seconds drawled out into minutes and minutes into what seemed like hours. Oz wondered where was the answer? How hard was it to say no? Unless…

"Yes," she replied simply.

What was the question? Oh, wait… Oh God! Oz's heart plummeted. Willow's voice was so soft and barely audible, even for him to hear, yet each syllable shredded his hopes with thousands of tiny blades. Here he'd thought that they were happy together, with each other, and now he found out that she didn't even love him. Oz wondered what real value he held in Willow's heart, seeing as she apparently loved another. Had it always been that way? Had she used him simply to make Xander jealous? Of course not! Willow would never use anyone like that to get what she wanted; she was a better person than that, a better person than he was, even if she had cheated on him. Maybe at one point she really had cared for him, but that was obviously a truth lost in the past now.

All of these thoughts raced through Oz's mind in the few seconds of Willow's pause for breath. The struggle for air, it seemed, was a constant battle in this place, for it was unimaginably hot and the atmosphere itself appeared to be encrusted with mold.

"But as a friend."

"What?" Oz asked completely lost now.

"I love Xander, but only in a best-friendy sorta way. Oz, I love you and only you," Willow assured, taking a step toward him. "You're my guitar-playing, sometimes werewolfy, really funny in a reserved way, always cute, cool hair-colored boyfriend. And my boyfriend you will always be, unless, of course, we decide to get married. Then you'll be all those things, plus my husband. I'm just so sorry that it took a kiss from Xander to find all that out."

Oz ran to her and swept her into his arms, kissing her deeply, silently forgiving her of her secret crime. "I love you too, Willow."

They held each other close for a while longer, then reluctantly released from their embrace. "Come on," Oz said, "let's go find your _just_ friend." She nodded and took her boyfriend's hand in her own as they headed for the door.

Outside, neither person could hardly see through the downpour, but that didn't stop Oz or Willow for even one millisecond. They were drenched instantaneously from head to toe; however, the pair didn't have the time enough to care. The two crossed the street together—as they knew they would always be—in order to search the next factory that they knew they would also find as barren as the last. Nevertheless, Oz and Willow trudged on through the curtain of rain with only two thoughts between them: how much they loved each other and how much they wanted Xander back.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen ****

Chapter Fourteen

Angelus and Xander. Oil and water. All four things were in essence the very same. They never mixed; rather, at one point, they met briefly, trying hard not to touch one another. But they always did, in just one spot, and in Angelus and Xander's case, that one point was the slayer, Buffy. And in the end, after their initial collision, one always came out on top.

"Thirsty," Xander said in a hoarse whisper. 

Angelus paced nervously. He was running out of time here. Buffy was close, so close he could almost feel her gentle breaths on the nape of his neck. He had to finish Xander now, physically, no time for emotionally, as he had planned. Angelus was furious with Buffy. How did she know exactly where to go? Was this some sort of new slayer tracking power he'd never witnessed before? Damn her! She was always messing up his best-laid plans, coercing his schemes to go haywire. Now Angelus really wasn't going to be able to torment the nasty little rodent.

Xander. Ooh, Angelus was enraged with him, too. That damned kid had somehow taken the grisly sight in front of him and digested it; it no longer seemed to bother him. Not to mention, he was still reluctant to obey Angelus even after the vampire had dealt out numerous blows to the devastated teenager's body. Angelus realized this was probably due to Buffy's powerful influence and the emotional hold she had on him. If he weren't so in love with the accursed blonde, this most likely would have been more fun for Angelus. What the demon wanted to do over everything else was to grab the boy by his hair, jerk his head to the side, dig his fangs into Xander's neck and exsanguinate him so slowly that Xander could actually feel his blood being sucked from his very veins. Would it really matter all that much if he did? Would the world stop turning if he prematurely killed the Harris kid? Hardly. His plan had already gone awry, so there wasn't much point in trying to salvage a sinking ship. At least he'd have fun going down with his vessel! Maybe, if he were so lucky, finding Xander's lifeless corpse stretched lackadaisically beside Miss Calendar's own would terrify the slayer even further, at least enough so he would have the element of surprise. Maybe finding her brand new lover dead would push her far enough over the edge of insanity so that killing her would be nothing but a cakewalk.

No! He had to fight the urge to kill him right away. Beat Xander fist, kill him later. Where would the fun be if in fighting a slayer with no bite left? Very well. With the crowning of his new plan, Angelus raised his foot in the air and kicked the slayerette forcefully in the stomach. Xander groaned, but reacted little otherwise. "Please," he begged, "just a little water."

"You're in no place to be making requests, boy," the demon spat angrily, pissed at the fact that the child would still have enough gall to be asking for water, asking for anything, for that matter.

Angelus tilted Xander's head and pierced the tender flesh of the neck of youth with the extreme tips of his wickedly pointy fangs. "You think you're thirsty. I'm so dry, I feel like I'm gonna wilt like a flower in the desert sun." Two little pools of blood formed from the tiny punctures in his skin, and Xander saw Angelus' mysterious eyes glowing brilliantly with anticipation, the inky creature within them oozing excitedly around his blackened irises. Angelus lifted a finger in the air and swiped it across the holes in Xander's neck, picking up some of the gooey red liquid, which the vampire then licked gently off his fingertip, savoring every flavorful blood cell with his reptilian tongue.

Xander wanted to cry, but didn't. He ached all over and his throat stung with a fire; plus, he was unbelievably parched. His neck throbbed along with his steadily slowing heartbeat and his tongue, thick with wont of water, was plastered to the roof of his parched mouth. Xander was giving up what faint glimmers of hope he'd managed to cling to. At least if he died, the pain would go away, both the mental and the physical. Xander wouldn't have to worry anymore about Buffy not loving him, or giving a damn about him otherwise. He wouldn't have to suffer through her wasting away because of a ridiculous fairy-tale love that could never become more than a dream or a wish. 

Just close his eyes and feel the pain, pure and unrefined; wait for the icy tides of a somehow heavenly death to wash over his sin-soaked remains and carry his tainted soul out into the freezing waters of a sea murky and without a basin. And everything would be all right. Simply relax and accept what death was, a shining lighthouse beacon off in the distance, and wait for it to signal him to come forth into the great beyond; that was all he had to do to be free: close his weary eyes…

@~~`~~~

Suddenly, Buffy fell to her knees and started chanting, "No! Please don't!"

"Buffy! Buffy! What's wrong? What is it?" Faith cried concerned. Her friend kneeled there on the floor rocking back and forth, reaching out to an invisible someone that she saw before her eyes. Faith dropped her crossbow and sat down next to her fellow slayer. She put a reassuring arm around Buffy's shoulders and kept interrogating her as to what was wrong. For such a hardened woman, Faith was truly afraid for her newfound friend. The poor girl had gone through so much in her life, seen so many friends die, watched as they perished before her very eyes—and Faith knew well what that was like. Still more, now her best friend was missing as a direct result of her former lover, and there wasn't much hope in finding him alive. "Buffy?" She patted her back gently, trying to wake her from her nightmare.

Buffy regained her composure at the sound of her name, and turned to look into Faith's eyes; hers were dry, while Buffy's were wet and red-rimmed. What had just happened? She remembered collapsing on the cold, wooden floor; remembered crying into the emptiness around her; remembered thinking Xander _wanted_ to die. Whoa! What was that last thing? She had no reason to assume Xander would to kill himself. But there was something inside her that was telling her that that's exactly what he was doing. "We _have_ to hurry," Buffy insisted, "We're almost out of time." She grabbed Faith's hand roughly, yanking her along the corridor.

They raced from room to room and upon finding nothing but cobweb-covered machinery and dusty piles of plastic wrap, they moved on from the third floor, clamoring down the dilapidated staircase, to the second floor. Still nothing. "Last floor," Faith stated as the pair stared at the doorway of the stairwell that read: "First Floor." Buffy nodded, and they slipped through the door and down the steps as quietly as slayerly possible. 

Stake in front of her, Buffy came to the last door on the bottom floor and placed her trembling hand on the knob. She was having her doubts now. They had all thought that this was the place Xander had to be, they all knew it. However, this was the very last door in the building that had gone unchecked—Buffy and Faith had even thought to look in the janitor's closet—and if Xander weren't behind it, they were back at square one. Tentatively, the slayer turned it slowly and the door swung inward. Her rapidly adjusting eyes searched the blackness with a mad rampage and found this to be yet another hallway. "Great," she muttered sardonically. "Faith!" she whispered to her friend.

Faith turned and looked at her funnily. Buffy pointed down the hallway, and Faith covered her. They were going in.

Cautiously, Buffy flicked on the lights. The glowing pears overhead flickered and threatened to throw them back into darkness, but eventually the sputtering bulbs steadied and sent a stream of reassuring light down upon them. Buffy's eyes darted left and right, up and down, seeking out anyone or anything that might attack. 

Finding nothing to worry them yet, the slayers noticed there were only three doors left to check behind: two on the left, one on the right. Faith took the last on the left, Buffy the first on the left; they'd do the one on the right together.

As she was making her way to the last door, Faith noticed a small, black Radioshack radio sitting simply on a worn wooden table, viciously scarred by years of meat being chopped on it. On closer inspection, she found it to be plugged in, completely ready-to-use. "Some naughty little boy's been here," she uttered to herself, "and I'm willing to bet the nasty demon's _still_ here." Her immense grin of excitement only grew bigger as she approached the grimy, time-weathered portal. Faith was growing more and more anxious for this big showdown at the O.K. Corral with every passing second. With practically unmatched strength, the dark-haired slayer almost ripped the door off of its hinges, her excitement was so great. Buffy, naturally, frowned at Faith, but the rogue girl just smiled cutely and bowed her head in embarrassment. 

Following her spunky friend's example, Buffy opened her door as well, finding the same as Faith had… nothing.

They closed in on the middle door together. Buffy went first, as she often did: stake in one hand, door handle in the other, love in her heart. Ever so stealthily, Buffy pulled down the handle and shoved the door open, praying it wouldn't create too much of a squeal so as to alert the person or thing (whichever) inside to their presence. Luckily for those two, it didn't.

Yes, they were lucky that the door didn't make a noise; however, they quickly rethought their luck.

There he was, just like in the horrible sketch: lying there stretched out on the floor, hand and feet tied, blood spattered all over him, eyes jammed tightly shut against the cruel world. And next to him kneeled her ex-lover, Angel, or rather, Angelus, as he preferred to be called now. Why, just a few short days ago he seemed like his old, normal self. How had he become this monster again: the monster that had murdered Miss Calendar, the monster that had aided in killing Kendra? 

Very briefly, like a flash of lightning outside, a few of Giles' words appeared within her mind. It was awhile ago, approximately right before she had slain Angelus that he had told her of the sufferings Angel would encounter in Hell. Buffy remembered wanting to desperately to weep about him as she'd done so many times before, but she coerced herself into listening. "It's unlikely anyone can stand that much pain for so long and still walk out as themselves." So, Buffy deduced from that quote, that when Angel had returned, he'd never really been the Angel that she knew, but rather Angelus in Angel's clothing. God, she's almost fallen for him again! The very thought was appalling; to think, she kissed the embodiment of everything she hated and toiled so laboriously to destroy. And Buffy hadn't even seen it coming, hadn't even thought of the possibility, she'd been so blinded by love. And in doing so, she had endangered her friends. She felt so absolutely stupid!

Well, now it was time to fix her problem. Buffy would risk her life for Xander as he'd done so many times for her, and she _would_ save him.

There was Angelus, licking Xander's blood off of his filthy fingers, obviously enjoying it, probably even more so because of the simple fact that it was the blood of one of her cherished friends.

Buffy choked back a sob as she observed Xander spasm with disgust at every touch from Angelus. His revolted countenance displayed a look of absolute repulsion. He whimpered, and the sound tugged roughly at her heart. 

Time to fight.

"Hello, lover," she spat mockingly as she took two steps into the room, her marching feet the very sound of death.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen ****

Chapter Fifteen

The rich melody like the sounds of a spring evening. He was reminded of rain on the rooftops of the cabins at camp. Xander's eyes flew open at the sound of her voice, for he knew it so well. The nanosecond he'd opened his eyes, Xander knew his ears had not deceived him, as he feared. There she was, standing like the goddess of light and beauty before him, wet locks of blonde hair in total disarray but only making her more appealing. An aura of lightness surrounded her still dim figure in the inadequate lighting; nonetheless, Xander saw her clearly, perhaps because wanted to so desperately. Another stalwartly figure stood beside Buffy, a figure he recognized almost as quickly as he had Buffy. Faith. She stood gallantly alongside her fellow slayer, crossbow forming a strange growth as it protruded from her chest, a fierce-looking metal arrowhead glinting in the dingy light. All remaining thoughts of suicide dwindled away when Xander discovered the fact that Buffy had come for him; she did care.

Out of the corner of his eye, Xander watched as Angelus whirled around, completely startled to see the slayer had already arrived and, at the same time, filled with such rancor toward her that Xander thought the demon thing inside his eyes was going to burst forth from them, it felt so many waves of hatred pulsing through it. "So, you found me. I'm quite impressed. For such a seemingly naïve little girl, you sure are fast." He paused to listen for a response. He got none; therefore, he continued. "I must admit to you, I hadn't expected you until another day or so had passed. I didn't even get a tolerable amount of time to work over our good friend Xander. Now is that really fair?" Angelus sighed wistfully. "But I guess some things just aren't meant to be, are they, lover?" His ferocious eyes motioned betwixt him and her, sending silently messages through the air. He was trying to manipulate her with her emotions, but, to Xander, it didn't seem to be working very well. 

While Buffy examined the vampire's every move with her grandiose eyes, Xander followed her with his. She slid nimbly around the room like a cheetah on the prowl, attempting to analyze her prey's next move by judging carefully the moves he was making then. When he did nothing but taunt her further with his eyes, Buffy took a step forward.

"Ah, ah, ah," Angelus scolded, waving a hooked finger at her. "If I were you, I wouldn't get any closer. It would make the demon very irate, and that would be the last thing most people would want." 

"I'm not most people," Buffy commented truthfully, and Xander sighed at that fact; she wasn't, she was better than they were.

"Still…" He placed a menacing hand on Xander's black-and-blue variegated throat, squeezing until it seemed he was a beached fish gasping for air. Angelus' fingers were crimson because of the blood oozing from the puncture wounds hastily inflicted in his neck. The slayerette pressed his eyelids shut, tighter still, until a palette of colored dots danced wickedly behind them. 

"Xander…" she breathed, stretching a ghostly arm out to him in vain, striving to reach him, but getting nowhere near, of course. Finally, Buffy took a single step back, and, satisfied, Angelus released his iron-tight grip, leaving the boy squirming hopelessly on the floor.

"B…Buffy. D…don't worry about me, I'm o…okay. Just wh…watch your back. He's the D…Devil."

Angelus cackled crudely. "And that I am. Thank you, Mr. Harris, for establishing the obvious. Now let's give our brave companion a hand." There was a brief flash of silence for a quick, mocking golf clap. "Even in the face a raw fear, in the face of adversity he manages to rustle up the courage to exhort you to be careful and to tell you he's okay, which he most certainly is not. For Godsakes, look at his tormented body, a mere wraith in a pair of Levi's jeans and a T-shirt. Just imagine what his soul looks like now, hah!" He gurgled, "What a mess. And all thanks to you, his slayer, his eternal beloved, his Buffy."

Xander's breath caught in what was left of his throat; he couldn't even manage a word. Had those dreaded words just come from Angelus' fang-lined mouth? Oh God, he hoped not. The room was deathly silent as the fan whirred ceaselessly onward into oblivion. Faith and Angelus were lost in a fog that now surrounded Buffy and Xander like an opaque wall. She stared at him, mystified even more so as time wore endlessly on. The gathering mists that encompassed the pair clouded her normally clear eyes. Xander noticed that the slayer's mouth was turned slightly downward at one end, a look of bewilderment showing vaguely on her face. Oh, what Xander wouldn't have given at that moment to know exactly what Buffy was thinking.

@~~`~~~

His slayer? His _eternal_ beloved? His Buffy? Were those Xander's words or Angelus'? Granted, they had come out of the latter's mouth, but did Xander ever admit those things to him? If he had, Buffy couldn't honestly say she was surprised. Well, now that wasn't entirely true. Before she'd left Sunnydale behind, Buffy had known for a fact that Xander had had a crush on her; he'd made it quite apparent just how deeply he enjoyed her company at so many points in their strained relationship. However, when she'd returned, Xander hadn't seemed to notice her half as much as he'd used to, nor did he run to greet her the moment he saw her hair glinting under the warm California sun, and she could feel him slipping away. So, after all, this was a surprise… if they actually were his words.

But then again, what if Angel had been making all of it up just to throw her off-guard. Had that been his intention, then surely it had worked its magic. At least in the event of a surprise attack, she had Faith to back her up; that was a comforting thought, for Faith was a damn good slayer. However, she sometimes lacked what other called "people skills"—this trait was foreign to many slayers, though.

Back to what Angelus had said. How had he known what she wanted to hear? Assuming, in the first place, that that was what she wanted to hear. It was, wasn't it? Oh God, so confused and no time to sort things out. Dammit all to Hell! What did she want to hear? What were her true feelings for Xander? Why couldn't she just make up her damn mind! Too many questions, all without answers. _Buffy, you're doing too much thinking and not enough acting!_ she scolded herself. "Let him go, Angelus!" she commanded. "He's done nothing to you."

An evil chuckle was issued from his blood-rimmed mouth. "The hell he hasn't. Seems to me he's the one who interfered more than anyone else, especially in that despicable Buffy and Angel relationship thing, not that I mind that any. Seems to me Xander's been, is now, and always will be an integral part of our relationship, even if he dies."

"Well, you know what? I don't wanna find out."

"I'm kinda curious…" Angelus announced as he touched his powerfully muscled hand to Xander's neck again, gently squeezing.

Buffy's eyes widened slightly, but she refused to show her fear. If Angelus sensed any more weakness or fear on her part, he'd be on her like a lion on a zebra. Instinctively, she knew what to do: change the subject. "I can't _believe_ I bought that crap about you being my Angel. I should've killed you when I first knew you were back."

"Yes, I was pretty convincing, wasn't I?" he bragged, tugging proudly on his shirt. Suddenly, the vampire's face twisted grotesquely, and he changed into the incredibly familiar appearance of Buffy's sacred Angel, saying in his most timorous voice, "B…Buffy? Is that you? Help me…ah hah hah hah!" Their former ally shifted back into Angelus, who stood laughing hysterically all the while.

"Drop the whole Angel façade; you can't fool me anymore."

Angelus smiled evilly, his lips curling wickedly at the ends. "Sure I can. I've done it for the past coupla weeks, I can do it again."

It was at that point that Xander realized that Buffy had known about Angel being back from Hell for awhile now—she'd even seen him, conversed with him, possibly even more than that, too—yet she never once bothered to bring up the subject of the vampire. Why didn't she inform them of this crucial fact? Why had Buffy insisted on deceiving her own friends? Couldn't she see that disaster was on the horizon; was she that blinded by love for this nocturnal being that she failed to realize that only trouble would ensue? It was quite evident that wherever Angel was, Trouble wasn't far behind.

However, Buffy wasn't finished with what she had to say. Disregarding Angelus' warnings, Buffy took a step closer. "But now I know, and, therefore, you've got no hold on me anymore. You may as well give it up, _Angel_. You can't win; all you can do is hope to die quickly—pray that my stake hits your heart and not something else."

"We have yet to see that, now don't we, Buffy?"

"Don't you know the good guys always win?" Faith chimed in.

"Don't you know that's only in the movies?" he mocked viciously.

Then Buffy interrupted anxiously, "Are we just gonna talk, or are we actually gonna fight?"

"Itchin' for a fight, eh? I'll give you your last request. Let's go," he ordered. But before he got up, Angelus kicked Xander so hard it made the poor whipped boy's heart skip a beat.

"K…kill him, Ba…Buffy," Xander wheezed.

She nodded and closed in on her prey.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen ****

Chapter Sixteen

They started circling each other in a strange dance, neither attacking, yet neither falling back. The two were so close they could smell each other's breath—one smelled like mint, the other's like the vile reek of death. Buffy's eyes narrowed as she focused on the vampire before her, concentrating on his every movement. The air was almost unbearably hot. It pushed her down into the floor—at least it seemed to—and she struggled to breathe under the glare of the single light bulb. 

Thunder clanged outside. Lightning crashed in the distance. Rain pitter-pattered on the tin rooftop. Wind exploded through the trees. All while the sun withered away behind the choking onyx clouds. Yet the fracas in the sky was all but non-existent within the room. Just the vampire and the vampire slayer.

To keep the mood lively, Angelus began humming what sounded like "In the Air Tonight", and Buffy's suspicions were confirmed when he busted out singing the actual words to the song. 

"I've been waiting for this moment all of my life…"

Buffy listened intently, but her gaze upon him remained unfazed. She continued to watch him strictly as they continued their dance, always waiting for a moment when she could strike with all the ferocity that had built up inside her throughout the course of the day.

__

Damn him! Why did he have to keep chanting that hideous song? It was really beginning to disrupt her concentration. When had he heard that song anyway? It was then that she recalled the radio in the sterile hallway, all plugged in and ready to be listened to.

She was lost within the moment. For a brief, flittering instant, she imagined she saw the old Angel before, not the actual beast that was hungering for her blood. Buffy saw the demon that had stolen her heart, symbolically, that is to say. His straight-lined mouth curved upward at the ends and softened into the genteel smile of her Angel. There was no maliciousness visible in the warm gesture, at least not any that Buffy could see. It was just _her _Angel. Loving. Caring. Protecting. She wanted to run to him, leap into his arms and stay there forever, just like in her dreams that so often frequented her nights. 

As she was about to take a step forward and dive into him, Angelus returned and moved into full battle mode. The attack was swift and almost caught Buffy off-guard had it not been for her slayer instincts kicking yet again to save the day—and her ass. He lounged toward Buffy and tried to grab her left arm, hoping to wrench it from its very socket. However, expecting this approach, Buffy sidestepped him in time to deliver a vicious kick to his jaw, sending Angelus reeling backwards. Before he could shake it off and get back up, the slayer brought her leg straight up into the air and then down onto the middle of his back, a sickening crack reverberating within the sound-proofed room. Angelus collapsed on the ground in a heap, heavy breathing emanating from his crumbled figure on the floor. _Who says cheerleading never pays off?_ she thought smartly.

__

This was almost too easy, Buffy snickered. She raised Mr. Pointy above her head and then continued to bring it down, the fiercely sharp tip piercing the air. But Angelus wasn't as out of it as he seemed. He rolled to the side, just missing the razor sharp end of the stake and used his foot to sweep Buffy's legs out from under her. She fell down next to him with a clatter and a bang, successfully getting the wind knocked out of her. Angelus was quick to act on the moment of vulnerability in his prey, just as any good hunter, and hopped to his feet, eyes narrowing as he circled the victim. Lifting his foot slowly in the air, the vampire forcefully dropped it onto the center of her chest, gently applying more and more pressure, listening carefully for the distinct sound of bones shattering. As her air supply dwindled, Buffy squealed like a piglet under his weight, screaming painfully idle threat after idle threat. Her face turned a vivid purple, then melted into a burgundy. Because she was so short on air, Buffy lost all the strength she needed to throw off the beast's foot. Instead, she just struggled like the zebra in the lion's jaws. Buffy's legs thrashed about wildly as she slowly died…again. Angelus' eyes remained fixed on her, while Buffy's eyes remained fixed on Xander's. There was no way for him to save her this time.

"Nooo!" Xander's pained scream filled the room. Her eyes pleaded with him for some release, a release he could unfortunately not provide this time. He struggled with his restraints—a losing battle. He struggled to save her. He struggled to save himself from this sight. _Oh_ _God_… Xander searched quickly for an idea that could rescue his beloved. Then it came to him. "Faith! Don't just stand there watching! What the hell's the matter with you! Go save her!"

On cue, Faith pitched her crossbow for the stake hidden in her jacket sleeve. She removed it incredibly quickly as she leaped across the floor, closing the gap between herself and the demon in no time. The crossbow slammed against the ground, almost shattering like the brittle bone of old age, startling Angelus. His head jerked around and he saw Faith, a gazelle bounding over open prairie, charging at him. The lion reacted. Without thinking, he lifted his foot from Buffy's chest and did a fancy backward kick, pivoting his other foot so he could maintain better balance. The dark-hair slayer took a direct hit to the stomach and she stumbled back, clutching her belly and croaking like a frog, her face twisted with a look of pain and frustration.

Back on the floor, Buffy clawed the air, trying desperately to bring the air to her, into her so that she might breath normally again. She let out a low moan, but somehow got to her feet. Her ankle threatened to give out, making her fall once more, and if it did, she couldn't prevent it, for she no longer had her crutches—she ditched them when she'd jumped from roof to roof. But Buffy wouldn't let herself fall. Inside, she knew that if she did, there was no way she was ever going to be able to get back up again, too much energy gone. She steadied herself with the help of the wall, and while she was leaning against it, she looked Xander's way. It was funny how, although he was the one in the most pain, the bruised and bloody one, he looked at her with genuine concern in his eyes, not for himself, but for her. Xander ignored his suffering to make sure Buffy wasn't hurt. She was lucky to have him.

She'd completely forgotten about Faith and Angelus; there was only Xander and herself, just like in her little dream this morning. He began to mouth the words "Help me," just like earlier today. Buffy walked closer to him, and he shook his head vehemently when she did. That was when she realized that Xander wasn't asking her to help him, but rather Faith.

Instantly, Buffy spun around, lightning fast. Her ankle throbbed with immeasurable pain as she did so, telling her to sit down, but the obstinate slayer refused to obey.

Angelus was giving Faith her money's worth. Each punch she sent flying he blocked, then returned with one of his own, most of which she managed to deflect. Then the tide changed. Angelus started scoring winning punches right and left, and Faith became slower and weaker as a result. He stopped for but a moment to say, "I expected more from a slayer. Oh well." A sigh, then a sucker punch that was unbelievable. Where did he learn that? Street fighting for demons, a special class taught only in Hell? With his arms moving blurs surrounding her, he grabbed Faith's hair, spun her around, pulled her into his arms like a lover would, and then tilted her head to the side. "A pleasure meeting you. Too bad we can never do this again." Faith struggled fruitlessly in his grasp, but this only excited the vampire more as he tightened his hold. Angelus growled and went to bite her neck when a fist slammed him from behind. As his head jarred forward, his fangs grazed Faith's neck, drawing blood. 

"Ow! Goddammit!" the other slayer cried, hand instinctually going to her neck. She looked briefly at her hand, and upon finding it stained red, Faith flipped. "I'm bleeding… I'M BLEEDING! Oh, you're gonna pay for that one!" She let out her battle cry, but Buffy held her back, shaking her head "no" very firmly. 

Faith trotted off angrily to the side, planning to pounce on the monster anyway, when Buffy interrupted her idea. "Can you handle me?" 

Angelus turned around, bellowing, eyes burning with all the fury Hell had to offer. "Why not? I have before," he managed coolly, fighting back the seething rage Buffy saw rip through his body in waves. With that, Angelus grunted and dove at her. She jumped out of the way, adding her own bit of style with a split in midair. 

"You've got to be kidding me?" she laughed. "Is that _all_ you've got?"

"Nope. Just a little taste of what's to come."

"If that's the case," she started between punches, "then," punch, "this," punch, "should," punch, "be easy," kick.

Angelus went down, barely missing a stomp to his chest by Buffy. Instead of hitting his ribs, her foot slammed into the floor, sending ripples of fire darting up her good leg, swimming right down the bad one. As the vampire rolled out of the way, he glanced back at the other slayer he never knew. Faith, that was her name right? It didn't matter. He knew all he needed to know about her: she was the woman instituted to fill Kendra's empty slayer shoes, not to mention she was a terrific fighter. The dark-hair girl was back on her feet, dusting herself off and looking _really_ mad. Her eyes narrowed on the demon's face, flames dancing in their depths. The fragile gazelle he had seen earlier had all but disappeared, only to be replaced by a fellow, rival lion. She looked about ready to strike.

"Faith! Get Xander and get out!"

"No!" she cried. "I wanna stake him! I wanna do the job!"

"Don't argue, just do!" Buffy insisted, nodding her head toward the exit.

Reluctantly, Faith sidled over to Xander and untied him, helping the poor boy to his feet. "Come on, Xan." Bright red rings formed around his wrists and ankles from the chaffing binds; they were even so far-gone that they bled a little. Xander wasn't as woozy as he thought he would be. Granted, he was weak and his mouth was parched and his chest stung like a bitch, but he sucked it up, using the last of his strength to steal Faith's stake, break free from her grasp and go racing over to Buffy. She needed help, and he wanted to be the one who supplied her with it.

@~~`~~~

Buffy observed Angelus skittering away over to the open door, and she didn't do anything—just waited—for Buffy knew, Angelus was not the type to back down from a confrontation, especially one he'd apparently been waiting to have since a year ago or so. That beast was up to something; he knew something that she didn't know.

And then she found out what.

Xander screamed a warning to her not to look, but curiosity got the better of her… again. Instantly, she wished it hadn't. There, lurking in the shadows, where it belonged, was the hideous visage of the once beautiful Miss Jenny Calendar. Buffy felt the vomit rising in the back of her throat; this wasn't how Giles' favorite teacher was supposed to look. Half of her flesh on her face appeared to have melted away, bleached white skull bone showing through now. Glowing teeth grinned at her, strangely pearly for the amount of decomposition she had gone through six feet underground. Jenny's lips hung by threads of skin attached to her cheeks, and a bit of her chin was missing, revealing the hidden jaw.

And worst of all was the awful stink drifting throughout, filling the room. Buffy hadn't realized it before because the heat of battle and her raging emotions had shut out all senses other than sight and sound. The reek was so powerful it practically knocked the wind out of her. Just to disgust her even further, Angelus inhaled deeply, sighing at the scent he undoubtedly found an incredible turn-on. "You know, you could get me this excited, too, Buffy, if you looked exactly like her. Care to try? I promise to help." She couldn't even answer, she was so repulsed.

One glaring, lidless eye seemed to watch Buffy's every move; it observed her take a step back, and it saw her grow furious. Another step back, always staring. Staring. Staring. Staring. Staring. STARING! It was driving Buffy insane.

She threw both hands above her head and screamed like a banshee hungry for violence and carnage. The dangling corpse seemed to vivify Buffy, and she dove gracefully into a front flip, even with the sprain. A second flip and she was in front of Angelus, almost atop him, her stake hanging directly above where a human's heart would be. "You are gonna pay for this, you sorry son-of-a-bitch," she added, bringing the stake down toward him.

"Xander! Come back here!"

"Faith?" Buffy spun around before she could inflict any damage and saw Xander barreling at her, followed by an irate Faith. It reminded Buffy of a chase scene she had once seen in a movie. Xander eyes were wide with fear, skittering back and forth in their sockets.

"Buffy!" he called. "Behind you!"

Facing Angelus again, she saw his gnarled, vicious hands reaching for her tender throat with the malicious intent to rip her head from her body. As they neared her, her eyes widened when she saw the talons at their tips actually grow right before her very own eyes. Light from the bulb glinted on their shiny exteriors, exaggerating their sharpness, although not by much. 

"Noo!" Xander screeched, his voice cracking like the thunder rumbling outside.

And then, everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Xander ran to Buffy, Faith's stake waving wildly above his head. Buffy turned back to Xander and became transfixed somehow by the spectacle before her, completely forgetting about the demon she was fighting. If she were going to die now, Buffy certainly didn't want to see Angelus as her last sight, rather someone she loved and held dear—Xander. Faith was racing after the boy, only managing to match Xander's speed, instead of gaining on him like Buffy would have thought. She kept yelling for him to come back, but he wouldn't listen. And Angelus, being the beast that he normally was, took advantage of the situation and reached closer for the blonde slayer.

Inch by painful inch, Angelus' wickedly sharp fingertips neared her slender neck, just millimeters away from tearing the perfect flesh. Angelus was so close he could see the blood racing through her arteries, could smell the fabulous aroma of the coppery liquid, taste her fire-red juices gliding sensually over his tongue. Only a few more seconds…

It was at that moment that Xander leaped, stake readied above his head, strong arms tensed, poised for action. A terrified Xander flew through the stale air, cutting it in half like a hot knife through butter. He prayed he would make it before he could witness his true love's demise, for if he didn't, it would be like watching himself die (which was probably going to happen anyway). 

The boy gritted his teeth in anticipation as he observed the scene ahead of him while it played in halting frames before his eyes. It was just like watching a movie in very slow motion. No, more like a documentary on the animals of the African savannas, where the lion lurched forth from his hiding place among the grasses and tackled the unknowing zebra. Except it was all in slow motion.

Angelus was only a few centimeters from Buffy, his revolting face screwed up in a look of evil malice, the monster in his eyes slithering for joy that he was about to make the kill. Buffy, on the other hand, looked radiant as usual, even with the wet hair and dirtied face and rain-soaked clothes. None of that stuff mattered anyway; she was his slayer, his queen of the night, his second, better half. Buffy had never needed a spotless appearance to be beautiful, for she was always that and always would be that way. 

__

Come on! Gotta save her!

Closer and closer. As Xander got nearer to Angelus, Angelus got nearer to Buffy. The demon was so close to the slayer, Xander's hurry seemed pointless; he couldn't get there in time. The mere thought of failing Buffy made him sick. He just wanted to die, and he was sure if he did fail her, he would.

The world moved impossibly slowly, and Xander took it as punishment for all the times he'd hurt his friends. He'd been the cause of Jesse's death; he was the reason Angel had been killed in the first place, only to return to this world as Angelus. If he had originally told Buffy that Willow was going to give Angel back his soul, then Buffy would never have killed him. He'd still be good ol' Angel (as if Xander would ever actually call him that), and Buffy would be ignorant to all this suffering. To put the icing on the cake, if Xander hadn't wimped out on Angelus last night, not doing anything to fight back, maybe he wouldn't have been captured at all. Buffy and Co. wouldn't've been brought into this whole mess, and instead of all the fear they felt, they would be in school laughing and making jokes and relaxing. God, life was such a bitch.

Xander watched in horror as Buffy's eyes shifted to see him drifting through the air, not paying any attention to the bloodthirsty vampire who was seeking to murder her. She stared relentlessly into his dark brown eyes, and as she did so, Xander saw a look of joy and relief evident within them. The connection was back. Xander and Buffy were again on the same level, their minds and bodies as one. He felt some pain leave him when their connection was complete, as if she had taken it away.

Still sailing in the air. Never going to reach the demon in time to save his love. Not going to survive this day. Never going to get the chance to tell Buffy how deeply he felt about her.

Dammit! Angelus was just too close!

Finally, after what felt like ages, Xander reached Angelus and took his best shot, which, naturally, wasn't very good. He lowered the stake from high above his head. The wooden stick whizzed through the air, screaming as it picked up speed on its way down. Splinters of oak pierced his fingers and numbed them further than a whole day without using them had. As Xander's altitude declined, he silently hoped that he could score a direct hit to the heart. Unfortunately, the slayerette fell short of his goal by a long shot—he merely nicked Angelus' shoulder. At least this less serious injury had the same desired effect, and the fact that his body went barreling into the beast's also helped matters.

Angelus lost his balance and roared with the intensity of all the hounds of Hell baying at once. He stumbled, one disfigured hand clasping his throbbing shoulder, the other waving crazily in front of him with the vicious intention of wounding the slayer.

It completed its mission.

Since Buffy was standing with her left arm facing Angelus, it made it all the more vulnerable. The terrible razors that were Angelus' nails ripped through Buffy's tender, milky flesh as though it were simply tissue paper and shredded it just as a chainsaw would do to a piece of wood. Blood and skin flew. Gore everywhere. And so much. Xander didn't think that there would be anything of Buffy when the proverbial "dust" settled. 

Still, the slayer's facial expressions were evident even through the bloody haze. Her facial muscles bunched and tightened, trying to lessen the swelling pains in her ruined arm. She clasped the gory wounds with right hand and somehow summoned all her strength to grasp her own stake with her free hand. As Buffy released her left bicep, at the same moment, she straddled the vampire lying wounded and dazed on the cement floor. Her eyes narrowed like a lioness'. Now she was the Queen of the Jungle, and Angelus was merely the weak zebra trembling beneath her paws. "You," she spat with a hatred unknown to all others. "You took away all I worked to build. You killed my innocence. You butchered my hope. You… you… you bastard! You _will_ die NOW!" Out of nowhere, Buffy's stake appeared and stabbed Angelus in the heart, the devilishly sharp piece of wood piercing his soft flesh, ignoring the hard chunks of bone and finding its mark.

Upon contact with the motionless muscle, Angelus howled, remembering his fire-ridden home beneath the Earth. He recalled telling Xander about how someday he'd like to return there and smell the exotic smells and see the exotic sights—little had he known he'd be revisiting it again so soon. And he'd been so sure of a sweeping victory! What had gone wrong? This was not supposed to end this way. Oh well, plenty of time to ponder this when he got back home. 

"See you soon, lover," croaked Angelus.

"Not likely."

And with a poof, he exploded into a great cloud of dust, a thunderclap signaling his dramatic exit.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen ****

Chapter Seventeen

With all her strength reserves emptied, Buffy slipped to the floor, her ankle finally weakening under her own weight. Of course, she never hit the ground. She felt those magnificently strong arms encompass her; their familiarity was a wonderful comfort for her. The slayer felt his muscles tense and struggle to let her down carefully on the ground with as little turbulence along the way as possible. He sat her down gently, his arms snaking their way away from her almost instantly because Xander was unsure if Buffy wanted this physical contact. How wrong he was. 

Instantly, Buffy embraced him, squeezing him so tight he could hardly breath. "Ah, Buff? Could ya ease up a little? I… can't… breathe…" She pulled away, embarrassed that she'd let her emotions get so carried away. Her face reddened, adding only its prettiness. "Glad to see you, too."

"Oh, Xander," Buffy said, reaching out for another hug and eagerly receiving one. As he released her, Xander cringed at the sight of Buffy's blood on his clothes. 

"You okay?" he asked, concerned, as he started to make a tourniquet from his shirt for her arm.

"I'll be fine." Naturally, even the slayer winced as he tightened the cloth to stop the bleeding. The fabric stretched taut across her wound, painfully pressing the tears of skin into each other. A ferocious red streak absorbed through the bandage in seconds. 

Moments passed in silence as Xander tended to the miserable blonde. His gaze was focused precisely on the task at hand, and Buffy tried to relax under his touch. Then: "We did it," she triumphantly announced though her eyes said that she wasn't exactly as happy as she wanted to be.

"More correctly, you did it. I was busy spending most of my frequent flyer miles while you kicked some vampire booty."

Buffy shook her head defiantly. "But if it weren't for your mad flying skills, we'd all be demon food, me especially. By the way, are you a superhero in your time away from us?"

"Code name: Captain No-Aim. You've already witnessed why I'm called that."

"Couldn't've done it better myself."

"You're probably right," Xander jested, shooting a warm smile Buffy's way.

Their jocular mood softened a bit though when Buffy proclaimed, "Angelus is gone for good this time; I can feel it."

"So can I, Buffy, so can I," he murmured, catching her gaze with his own. "Thanks."

"You know something particularly crazy?"

"Now what can be any crazier than what we've just seen here?"

Buffy paused momentarily, keeping him hanging on her every word and in anticipation of her response. When Xander's stare became intense enough, she answered, "I actually missed you."

Their light mood was back, seeping in slowly from the hallway. "Oh yeah?" he asked, trying to sound surprised. "That right? I guess that is pretty crazy. Who'da thought that you would miss me? Crazy, absolutely crazy, I tell ya," he repeated.

"Oh, of course! No one was there to call Giles G-man and drive him totally nuts. I swear, I think he actually missed you, too! Sometimes, when it was really quiet, I do believe I even heard him calling himself G-man."

The familiar mirth inched its way back into Xander's eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah. Did you really expect someone to take over that job for you? That was rude, Xander, very rude. Shame on you!" Buffy shot him a disapproving look.

"So sorry."

"I'll forgive you so long as you never do anything like that again. We clear?" she scolded playfully.

He nodded, then, "Crystal."

Buffy chuckled slightly, then took on a more serious tone. "Xander?"

Looking her in the eyes and adjusting her bandages: "Hmm?"

"What was it like?"

The slayerette looked quizzically at her. Well, duh. "Hell. What do you think it was, a bed of roses?"

Buffy ignored the smart-ass remark at the end and just asked, "How did you do it? How did you survive it without, you know, contemplating suicide?"

Xander cast his eyes downward, unable to look at her and lie. He had thought about killing himself, but he didn't want her to know. Obviously, she respected him for not thinking about _it_, but that would all change the moment she found out he had. "Where'd that come from?" he inquired nervously, trying to avoid the subject.

Suddenly, her breaths become louder and more pronounced. "You did, didn't you?" she spat disgustedly.

"Buffy…"

She jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow then scuttled on her hands and knees to the other side of the room. The slayer struggled hard to get back on her feet, but to no avail. "How, how could you even think of killing yourself, you, you selfish jerk! Did you even think for a moment about how that would affect your friends if you'd gone through with it? They walk in here after trying so hard to save him from the jaws of the evilest beast only to find him dead of his own choice! My God. It would literally eat away at their souls to know he didn't even care enough to wait for them, didn't trust them enough to believe they would find him."

She was rambling now, and it wasn't even about Xander's suicide attempts anymore. Buffy was suffering from emotional overload; Xander could tell. So he let her babble onward until she could hardly speak anymore. Poor girl. First, her former lover—of all people—who was supposed to be dead and in Hell, had kidnapped her friend. Second, Xander had had almost died twice: once by Angelus' hand and once by his own. Lastly, Buffy had to deal with the pain killing Angel had caused the first time all over again. To top it all off, she was a slayer for life, and she knew more events like this were still lurking on the horizon. 

By the time she had finished her half-coherent lecture, she was in tears. These weren't just any tears either; they were the tears she had dammed up long ago and needed to release. Still, Xander was quick to console her. At first she fought weakly with her fists, but then, upon realizing that this was the kind of comfort she needed, Buffy relaxed into his comforting grip. 

Faith had long since faded into the background, and she stood there observing the two with curiosity. Did they even realize how much they were in love with each other? It was almost comical how the two cuddled and comforted each other all the time, but neither ever made a romantic move. Once Faith had noticed she had ceased to exist in their little world, she sneaked out of the meat locker and eased into the hall. There, barreling down the hallway was the troop of four that was responding to the desperate cries it had heard earlier like the police would do. 

"Are you okay?" "Did you find Xander?" "Where's Buffy?" Each person was frantically shouting questions to Faith, who silenced them with a finger to her lips. She quietly motioned to the open room she'd just emerged from.

With wide, excited eyes, they all peeked into the locker and surveyed the scene for themselves. Ropes, crossbows, dust (Angelus), blood, and so forth lay strewn before them. Luckily for Giles, Jenny's hideous corpse was concealed by the open door, although the stench was unavoidable.

@~~`~~~

Cordelia craned her head and saw the two of them, her boyfriend and his slayer. Their arms were around each other and Xander's ruddy cheek was pressed affectionately against Buffy's. She was weeping on his shoulder, yet she seemed strangely happy. Cordelia couldn't see Xander's expression, but she was sure it was pretty much the same. 

Cordy knew the moment she would lose Xander was rapidly approaching, and she'd tried to make ready for it, both emotionally and mentally, but as it turned out, she wasn't prepared in the least. The sight had caught her completely off-guard, and she was so furious that she wanted to break something, anything, Xander's scrawny neck, but she didn't; she remained motionless, trying her best not to let her emotions run away with her. 

The fact that she had lost Xander to Buffy, of all people, that really irked her. Buffy had never expressed any interest in him before, so why now? And why him? Didn't she know he was taken? Besides, she was only supposed to love Angel; he was her one and only. Dammit! Xander was just supposed to be Buffy's friend; at least, that was the way she had always viewed him. Never like this, no, never. The nerve of some women! _Get your own man! _Cordelia could think of a ton of smart remarks to send flying that blonde bimbo's way, but she didn't because she thought of Xander. 

Oh, what he had to be feeling now. Alone and scared. He obviously loved Buffy, so, although everything inside her told her to go charging over there and haul him back to her side by the collar, Cordy remained frozen in place.

Gradually, everyone else became aware of the two's presence and turned to stare as well. Cordelia felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder and found it to belong to Willow, who was smiling lightly to sooth her as best she could. The would-be witch squeezed gently, conveying the message: "I'm sorry." The simple gesture helped to ease her pain, but as suspected, didn't alleviate it. Nothing would for a long while. Some wounds could only be healed by time.

__

You love someone else. I've got to let you go, and that's what I'm doing, letting you go. For what else can come of a relationship without love? Nothing. So good-bye, my love. I'm letting go…

Cordelia knew exactly what she was going to say to him now. She hoped she'd find another someday to fill the vacant spot Xander had left in her heart, and somehow Cordy knew she would. She was more than sure of it, it was assured, for she was the gorgeous and practically perfect Cordelia Chase. _Who could resist?_ she thought, smiling happily.

@~~`~~~

Standing in the entryway to the dank meat locker, with one arm around Oz and the other resting on Cordelia's shoulder, was Willow.

She mused over the warm scene before her. She knew Xander had always wanted to hold Buffy like that, always wanted to be close to her like that, and now his wish seemed to be coming true. His dream, long in the making, of being this close to the slayer was at last at hand. She wondered if Xander knew he had finally hooked Buffy on the drug that was Xander Harris. Knowing Mr. Oblivious though, Willow figured not.

At first, the wannabe witch felt the flush of jealousy course inside her, and she was even a little angry, but she quickly overcame those damaging feelings the moment Oz squeezed her hand. This was what her best friend—not her boyfriend—yearned for, and as she said before, "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and if Buffy makes you happy, bless you both." Last night, she had finally overcome those childish feelings of puppy love for the real thing with Oz.

As she was watching the romantic movie before, she remembered something very important—Cordelia. With scrutinizing eyes, Willow studied her carefully. Despite what the majority of the world thought, Cordy did have feelings and most of them were for Xander Harris. She genuinely cared for him even if she didn't necessarily show it to all. Maybe she even loved him a little, Willow didn't know. But one thing was for sure; she wasn't the ice queen like she liked to portray all the time. A sight like this had to hurt even the hardest of hearts.

To Willow's surprise, she actually found Cordelia smiling. She didn't appear mad in the least; she simply watched the two comfort each other and didn't interfere like everyone had expected Cordelia Chase would. "Should we wait for them outside?" the brunette queried.

"Uh, yes. Let's give them a few more minutes. If they don't…" Giles paused, searching for the right word for the occasion. " 'Finish' by then, I'll come in and retrieve them." They all nodded in silent agreement and walked out of Anderson Meats together, this time accompanied by Faith. Silence drifted along with the troop as they remarked to themselves about the situation. 

When they reached the front door, the Scooby Gang waltzed outside, all relieved of the terrible burden they had borne earlier that day.

It was now nearing 7:30 p.m., and the sun was beginning to settle into bed in a beautiful, clear evening sky. All traces of the violent storm had disappeared, the black clouds had vanished, the lightning was gone, and the thunder had ceased its incessant booming. The only thing left to signal its existence was the saturated earth and the piles of windblown leaves. The preternatural quiet of the outdoors seemed almost welcomed by a world thrown into such chaos. Birds had stopped chirping long ago and cars couldn't even be heard in the streets. The best part of all was the glowing red sun—a bright shining orb of pulsating light hanging precariously low in the evening heavens. The brilliant light twinkled in the remaining raindrops, creating a spectacular rainbow the likes of which Sunnydale, nor the world had ever seen. The fantastic arrays of colors shone down upon the slayerettes' faces, giving them hope for a better tomorrow—one filled with joy and happiness instead of pain and melancholy. 

"Looks like there's a happy ending in store for us after all," commented Willow. Oz nodded and pulled her closer. She rested her head on his chest and stared relentlessly at the dazzling light show above their heads.

"Maybe for some of you, but I broke my best nail in the stupid plastic doll factory."

Giles groaned. "Those were mannequins, Cordelia."

"I know!" she shouted defensively. "I'm not as stupid as yo…" Cordy stopped short, for she couldn't very well say Giles looked stupid because he looked about as intelligent as he was—and he just looked so very British. Then she corrected, "Oz looks."

The werewolf sighed heavily. Even with the bickering surrounding her, Willow remained happy. Their rainbow had come. Just like in the fairytales. Everything worked out in the end.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen ****

Chapter Eighteen

"Sorry," she sniffed, pulling away from the warm hug in which she was immersed. Buffy wiped her eyes with her hand and gave a lop-sided smile to Xander. 

"Sorry? For what?"

"For coming apart on you like that; I shouldn't have done it."

Xander grinned his famous grin and patted her cheek gently in reassurance. "You may be expected to do a lot of things, Buffster, but no one ever said you couldn't cry. Besides, you needed that. Gives your cheeks a rosy glow."

"No," she disagreed, "I think that's from you incessantly patting them. And thanks. You're a true friend, Xander. I'm glad to have you back." She hugged him again, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Even if you are a little zany.

"Now, let's get out of this place."

"Your wish is my command, your highness. But what about Miss Calendar's body? We can't just leave it here," Xander noted, sadness in his brown eyes.

Buffy eyed the foreboding metal door that graciously concealed her friend's mangled corpse. "First of all, we can't say anything to Giles; he'd be just to upset. As far as he knows she's still in Sunnydale Cemetery, sleeping peacefully. To know what Angelus did, it would just upset him too much, and I can't bare to see him in that much pain again." The slayer closed her eyes momentarily, thinking back to when that monster had murdered her and picturing Giles' grim face when he walked upstairs to find her broken body on his bed. "We notify the authorities, and they'll take care of it. I guess that's all we can do." 

"So I'm guessing no more patrol for a while?" the slayerette asked, staring at the goring in her shoulder, then glancing at her still bum ankle.

"You guessed right. It looks like it's time for a little R&R for the slayer. A much needed vacation is at last at hand."

Xander pulled himself to his feet and nodded. He swayed erratically back and forth for a moment as a wave of dizziness swept through him, then gathered himself. Starting for the door, Xander heard an irate shout for behind him. "Some kinda gentleman you are! Humph! Doesn't even help a lady to her feet!" Immediately, the boy spun around and gingerly lifted Buffy up, leaning her against his shoulder while he leaned back on her. 

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't know you were a lady. You ought really to tell me these things." Buffy jabbed him in the side while Xander merely smiled. 

Together they limped out of the meat factory, their bodies sagging against the other's. It was a pitiful sight to view, but at least they were reunited at last. 

Outside, the air struck Xander as the most wonderful thing he'd ever experienced, short of meeting Buffy Summers. The rainbow arching brilliantly over his head was only the icing on the cake and the rest of his friends were the cherry. "Look at the rainbow, Xander. Isn't it spectacular?" 

"Yes, it is," he said, looking ahead. "Willow!"

Spinning wildly like a top, the redhead's eyes bulged at the man standing behind her. "Xander!"

The whole group came charging to his side, all ecstatic to see him. Hugs were exchanged all around. "I thought I'd never see you again!" she exclaimed. "But sure enough, here you are! I'm so glad!" Willow hugged him ferociously. 

Xander grimaced with pain. "Wills, could ya ease up a bit? I can't feel anything below my neck anymore." She pulled back embarrassed, but smiling. "Geez, you been working out?"

"She has," Oz replied. "You should have seen her heave those giant wooden crates across the storeroom over there."

"My little Willow's got muscles? Who'da thought..." She blushed then shot Xander a sharp look.

Now, it was Giles' turn to welcome Xander back. The Brit showed his usual amount of emotion as he hid his sincere thankfulness. "Well, uh, yes. Indeed, welcome home, Xander."

"Thanks, G-man," the slayerette said, whacking him hard on the back. He started to tear up as he commented, "That was the warmest welcome home I ever received." 

"On second thought," Giles said, cleaning the water marks from his glasses, "I take that back." Everyone laughed.

Then, strangely, Cordelia stepped from the back… quietly. Her eyes were soft with love and relief as she moved toward the boy for a hug. Xander smiled, murmuring her name for a moment. The group heard a welcome back, then nothing as the brunette whispered a long something in his ear. Buffy looked quizzically at the pair, a flash of jealousy igniting in her gut as she saw Cordy pull away from him, but not without brushing his cheek with a kiss. The slayer heard a soft thanks from Xander as he stepped back and into his crowd of friends still hugging him. Giles, of course, insisted that this all wait until later after their injuries had been treated at the hospital. 

Reluctantly, Buffy, Xander and Faith climbed into an awaiting cab that quickly sped away from the factory. Xander watched as the familiar faces dwindled as the distance between them grew, and he sighed, thinking about all his friends had gone through that day just to rescue him, especially Buffy. He had never dreamed in his life that she cared so much for him. Even if it wasn't love, this friendship was definitely the next best thing. 

Exhaling deeply, Xander settled into the seat, letting sleep overtake him. It sure had been a long, very tiresome day. Even in his exhausted state, the slayerette could still feel Buffy's body leaning up against his and her head resting on his shoulder as she slept as well. This was a life Xander knew he could get used to. So, he placed his head gently atop hers and drifted off to slumberland, too.


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue ****

Epilogue

Almost a month had passed since the whole Angelus incident, and Xander was finally released from the hospital. It had been a long recovery for him both mentally and physically, and as for mentally, he never really expected to recover all the way.

To celebrate his release from the hospital, Buffy and the rest of the group decided to plan a welcome home "hootenanny," as Oz had suggested. In order to make up for Buffy and Xander missing dinner that fateful month ago, Joyce insisted on having not just them, but everyone over for a big feast—well, so to speak. She spent most of the afternoon toiling over numerous concoctions in the kitchen with the help of her daughter, naturally. By the time the entire guest list had arrived—Giles, Willow, Oz, Faith, Cordelia and Xander—the meal was ready.

The each took their seats around the elaborately set table, and while they waited for the food to arrive, the chatted amongst themselves.

First came the appetizers—soup and salad—and Xander was so happy, he announced to Mrs. Summers, "You know, I think I going to like living here."

"Wait a minute, Xander. You're living here now?" Joyce questioned, in complete shock. She looked to Buffy for an answer, but her daughter just gave a shrug.

"Well, of course I am. You treat me like a god. How do you expect me to ever want to go back to my place where all I ever get is TV dinners and fast food?"

Joyce rolled her eyes and continued ladling out soup. Rupert Giles mimicked the older woman's reaction, making it quite his own. "Uh, thank you, Mrs. Summers, for having us all over for such an exquisite dinner. Everything looks marvelous."

"Why thank you, Mr. Giles. I so glad all of you could come. Buffy was very instant about this whole shindig."

"Shindig? Mom, please, this is the 90s."

Oz interjected, "I like that word just fine, Mrs. Summers. It's a good word. We need more words like it nowadays."

"Gotcha. Well, come on, you guys, eat up. The main course is… ready," Joyce proclaimed, eyeing Buffy with a smile on her face. "I don't want you to eat it cold." They all did as ordered without complaining. "Who's ready for the main entrée?"

"I hope you guys like chicken. If you don't, tough. Eat it anyway or you'll face the wrath of my trusty stake. I spent all day making that bird, so you better eat it."

"Buffy, I think I speak for all of us when I say 'Let's eat.' We've all seen what you can do with that stake, and I don't think any of us want to risk the consequences." There was a round of smiles and nods in agreement with Xander.

Xander was handling this whole recent Angelus experience rather well, Buffy mused. During the first week or so, Xander had seemed distant and lost. He spent most of his time just staring off into space, or when he thought Buffy wouldn't notice, he would watch her surreptitiously. Of course she'd known, but she never let that on to Xander. 

What she really wanted to know was what exactly went on during his period of capture. She wanted to know why he kept an eye on her all the time now. Was it a result of the torture, or was it worse? Buffy didn't believe for one second that Xander had told her everything about what happened, and she suspected she never would. He kept that secret closely guarded.

"Good choice," Buffy agreed, returning to reality. As she spoke her mom brought out the perfectly roasted chicken… from KFC. Everyone laughed and made jokes about Buffy's funny method of cooking. "Fine! Fine! Laugh if you like, but it took me all of ten full minutes to order that, so I'm still gonna slay you if you don't eat it!"

They all passed the food around and conversed pleasantly the whole while. No one mentioned vampires or demons or the paranormal, just school and life and work. Soon they had reached the conclusion of their meal, and the cake was ready to be served. It was huge and completely covered with frosting; it read "Welcome home, Xander!"

"This is almost as great as my birthday," Xander squealed.

Buffy suddenly jumped up out of her chair and ran upstairs, all heads turning to follow her. She came bounding back down in seconds with something in her hand. "Which reminds me…" She thrust out her hand in front of her and opened her fist.

Lying in her palm, glistening like the sun, was the golden cross she'd used to find Xander. "So, you found it after all? That's how you found me? I almost forgot about it." He snatched it out of her hand and held it up to the candle resting in the middle of the table. The flame danced and flickered and seemed to possess the cross just as a demon would.

"I've had it on my dresser for all these weeks. I can't believe I kept forgetting to return it to you."

"It doesn't really matter," Xander admitted. "I have it back now." They exchanged smiles and then resumed eating their cake.

Before long they'd polished off the rest of the cake, and as Joyce and Buffy cleaned off the table, the other guests moved out into the living room to get comfortable. They exchanged pleasant conversation until Buffy and her mom returned. Then Cordelia got her first bright idea. "What say we all go to the Bronze to finish off tonight?"

Buffy looked at Joyce Summers and smiled sheepishly. "Can I go? I mean, would you mind if I left?"

"Why is it I'm always alone?" Joyce muttered miserably to herself.

"Giles'll stay with you, won't you Giles?" Buffy offered.

Giles floundered, "I, uh, I mean I sorta have to, um…"

"Oh, that's no problem! You can take my mom along with you, that way she can see the sorta thing we do on a regular basis."

"Well, uh, if she wants to, she can join me. I could always use the help."

"Great!" Buffy exclaimed joyously. "It's settled then. Mom, you're with Giles; the rest of you guys are with me!"

Rupert and Joyce just sat there staring at Buffy as she gathered her friends and hurried them out the door and into their cars.

"So," Joyce offered.

"Ah, yes. Would you perhaps like to accompany me to the, uh, library, and we, I mean, I could show you exactly, ahem, what I do."

Buffy's mom sighed heavily, quickly clearing the table. "Sure, let's go. Say, how is it we adults always get the short end of the stick? Why don't we ever get to have any fun?"

"Because we're supposed to be the a-dults," Giles admitted as he headed out the door with Joyce Summers in his wake.

@~~`~~~

When they reached the Bronze, the entire Scooby Gang met up and headed in together. Instantly they were blasted with loud music, a thousand different smells and the sight of a throng of rowdy teenagers laughing, dancing and socializing. Buffy and her company fit right in, taking their usual table and sitting down to a drink.

Once they had finished their sodas, Willow and Oz took the opportunity to get up and dance. Then, Cordelia was offered a chance to dance with some guy named Mike. Xander obviously didn't even care anymore, for he took the risk and asked if Buffy would "cut a rug" with him. But Buffy didn't want to leave Faith alone at the table, even if she did want to dance with him; she knew what it was like to sit alone while everyone else went off do dance with someone. "I'm fine, B," Faith protested. "Go dance with Xander."

"But—"

"I don't wanna hear it. You know, you're not the only slayer anymore. I'm your equal, and that means I can kick your butt. So you better get out there and bust a move, or I'm gonna make you." Faith immediately shooed Buffy away, taking a big swig of her Pepsi.

Buffy reluctantly took Xander's arm, and he led her out onto the floor. She kept glancing back to see Faith sitting by herself at the table. Buffy felt the urge to run back and sit with her, but instead entered Xander's welcoming arms, wrapping her own around him. "Well, please don't be too eager to dance with me; it might inflate my ego."

"And we certainly wouldn't want to do that, now would we? Lord knows, it's plenty big enough for the both of us." She smiled at him, forgetting about her slayer friend for the moment.

The dance was nice and slow; they moved flawlessly across the floor. And one dance flowed into another as though it was still the first one. As Xander tightened his hold of her, the music started.

__

How can I just let you walk away,

Just let you leave without a trace,

When I stand here taking every breath with you? Ooh.

You're the only one who really knew me at all.

Buffy lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up into her partner's eyes. "Xander?"

"Hmm?"

"What happened last month during the kidnapping? You never told me what you and Angelus talked about? What did he do exactly?"

__

How you just walk away from me

When all I can do is watch you leave?

Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain,

And even shared the tears. 

You're the only one who really knew me at all.

It was at that moment that Xander realized it was Phil Collins singing again. He remembered what his music had represented but a mere month ago: pain, suffering, loss, darkness. Those terrible feelings rushed back into him in tsunamis. "I don't wanna talk about," he announced, turning his head from hers and releasing Buffy from his grasp.

__

So take a look at me now,

Cos there's just an empty space,

And there's nothing left here to remind me,

Just the memory of your face.

"Xander, wait! Why won't you tell me? What's wrong?" He simply kept his back to her and tried his hardest to tune her out. If he couldn't hear her, maybe the pain would go away.

__

Take a look at me now,

Cos there's just an empty space,

And you coming back to me is against all odds,

And that's what I've gotta face.

"Just leave me alone, Buffy; I don't wanna talk about it!"

"Why, what are you hiding from me?" she cried desperately. Xander stormed off the dance floor, trying to look as mad as he possibly could, though he could never be really angry with her. He didn't bother to even glance back at her tear-stained face. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, and he had to struggle to repress every urge within him to just run back and kiss her and say he was sorry. But he couldn't bring himself to repeat all of the things Angelus had told him, and he couldn't tell her, or anyone else for that matter, about his phantasmagoric dreams.

__

I wish I could just make you turn around,

Turn around and see me cry.

There's so much I need to say to you,

So many reasons why.

You're the only one who really knew me at all.

She watched as he stampeded through the bystanders and fought his way to the exit. Buffy was weeping terribly, her arm stretched out before her in a futile attempt to bring him back to her side.

__

So take a look at me now,

Cos there's just an empty space,

And there's nothing left here to remind me,

Just the memory of your face

__

She can't know, she can never know. If I tell her, it will hurt her deeply, and I never want to do that. Then he realized that that's what he was doing to her now by leaving her alone—the thing she never wanted to be again—and he stopped dead in his tracks_. But if a little pain keeps her from the excruciating pain, I'm willing to risk it._ Xander resumed his brisk pace, this time actually adding speed.

__

Take a look at me now,

Cos there's just an empty space.

But to wait for you, 

Well that's all I can do,

And that's a what I've gotta face.

__

That's not all I can do, Buffy thought. No way I am letting him leave here; he has to know! Buffy ran as quickly as she could while navigating through the teenagers and finally caught Xander by the shoulder right before he could walk out the door forever. "Xander, no!"

"What?" he snapped harsher than he should have. He saw the terror and the sadness in her eyes and immediately he felt terrible. _What have I done to her?_

"Don't go. I, I…" she stammered, unable to get the words out of her throat. Go for it; it's now or never! "I love you!"

__

Take a good look at me now;

I'll still be standing here.

And you coming back to me is against all odds

And that's a chance I've gotta take!

"You, you… love me?" he squeaked out. _Oh my god_… 

She gulped and nodded, adding, "I love you more than anything, Xander, more than anyone. And I'm not going to lose you again." Before he could respond with even the slightest breath, she managed to take it away by pulling him tight against her, holding his head in his hands, and doing what she had longed to do for a month now; she kissed him.

It was slow and deep, filled with every emotion the two had kept inside them. The kiss spoke on a thousand different levels words could never do. It conveyed feelings so secret that Buffy had hardly recognized they existed. He was so soft in her arms, as his muscles had relaxed completely in the moment. His arms folded around her back, his hands pressing her harder against him. The moment their lips had met, Buffy had felt a current of electricity race all through her, leaving a tingling sensation coursing through her veins and clouding her mind. There was only three things left in Buffy's world: Xander, herself and the passion-filled kiss.

For Xander, he had never needed their lips to touch for him to know that he loved her unconditionally; he felt those effects all day, everyday. The purpose of the kiss was to show him how much Buffy truly loved him in return and how endless that love was. Boy, it was fantastic—like nothing he'd ever dared to dream. Her lips were soft and unblemished, her hair was silky and vibrant, and she smelled so damn good! Xander held her so close he could feel her heart beat much in the same erratic manner as his own. He never wanted to let her go, not if he could help it.

The hypnotic sounds of the last few strains of the song lingered in the air, the fading keyboard creating the perfect ambiance for the kiss.

Xander thought how ironic it was how a singer who could stand for such horrible things as torture and death could now stand for such wonderful things as love and hope.

__

Just take a look at me now…

With those closing words and a clatter of cymbals and drums, the song came to an end and Xander broke their contact.

The slayer inhaled and exhaled rapidly. The kiss had left her breathless as few things ever did. At that moment, she would have given anything for another one, so she leaned closer into him (if that was even possible), staring into his cinnamon eyes to show him just how much she was in love with him.

Suddenly, a gust of strong wind ripped through the club and swept Buffy's blonde hair onto Xander's face. She turned around to discover the entrance doors to be flung wide open with two shadowed figures charging into the room. The silhouettes slaked over to Buffy and Xander, their shapes becoming more familiar by the second. "Mom! Giles! What are you to doing here?"

"Buffy, I need to speak with you immediately," Giles commanded in his exasperated state. "Do you recall me telling you about the weird feelings I experienced at the old Sunnydale Fabrics plant?"

"Yes???"

That's when Giles took notice of the fact that Buffy was holding Xander's hand and that his arm was around her waist. "Did I, uh, interrupt something?"

The couple simply laughed a little nervously and shook their heads. _Later, we'll finish this later_.

Giles paused to take in the scene and then smiled approvingly of the pair. "Anyway, while your mother and I were researching, we made a discovery. There seems to be an evil presence here in the Hellmouth…"

His voice faded away and Buffy simply squeezed her love's hand. _Here we go again_.

The End


End file.
